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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925438">Orange Blossom Special</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twigo/pseuds/Twigo'>Twigo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, Defection, Drama, M/M, Romance, World War II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:40:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>266,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twigo/pseuds/Twigo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. In the second great war, Sweden broke neutrality to allow unarmed German troops to travel through their country via railroad. Berwald, freedom fighter, disagrees with this decision and sabotages a train. But the soldier that he captures as leverage was planning on going AWOL anyway, and sometimes your worst enemy can become your strongest ally. The handsome soldier is probably the least of Berwald's worries, with a house full of angry men whose allegiances and goals are always changing along with the war. SweGer, DenFin, + Norway</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Denmark/Finland (Hetalia), Germany/Sweden (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Twenty-Five Minutes To Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046773">翻完定标题</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafufus/pseuds/shafufus">shafufus</a>
        </li>


    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Pairings : Sweden x Germany, heavy one-sided Sweden x Finland, and Denmark x Finland. </p><p>Warnings! : AU. Human characters. Set in WWII era Europe. Starts in 1940, and moves onward. Violence, language, war, arson, murder, sabotage, Nazis, angst, occasional insanity, character death, defector!Germany.</p><p>A note on names : Finland will be going by Timo, as it is an actual Finnish name. From the creator's picks, I liked Lukas for Norway and Magnus for Denmark, so there you go.</p><p>All of the chapter titles are Johnny Cash songs, because whenever Sweden is in my head, I swear that's all I hear. Just a lot of Johnny Cash. Don't ask.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>ORANGE BLOSSOM SPECIAL</strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Chapter 1</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Twenty-Five Minutes To Go</strong>
</p><p>The train would leave soon.</p><p>The sounds of bustling and the sharp smell of coal and the crowds of people were indicators of a departure. The station was for military, and transport this time was of men, not weapons or ammunition. Five hundred men, soldiers of the Wehrmacht, stood around with their hands tucked in their pockets, puffing carelessly on cigarettes as they chatted to each other and waited for the next leg of their journey to begin.</p><p>The sky was blue. White clouds. The time of year when winter was turning into spring. There was still snow on the ground, but the grass was starting to push up underneath it, and the wind was warmer. The sun was brighter in the sky, and the clouds less overwhelming. The wind was blowing.</p><p>The atmosphere was light.</p><p>These soldiers were unarmed, relaxed and unworried. They were not off to a dangerous combat zone. They were not going to the Western front. They were not going to the sea. They were not destined to go up in the air. They were going North. A daily transport of unarmed men through (supposedly) neutral lands. There was nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about, and they could enjoy this train ride, safe and secure. No weapons. No helmets. No scarves of machine-gun ammunition.</p><p>Just a train ride.</p><p>And still...</p><p>"Why d'ya have to look so worried all the time, Lutz?"</p><p>No response, and then finally, over the commotion, a deep, "Sorry. Can't help it."</p><p>Ludwig couldn't. It was his nature to worry. Just because Gilbert didn't understand the meaning of the word did not mean that <em>he </em>was so lucky. Worried about everyone and everything, all the time, because Gilbert was always giving him good reason to.</p><p>Standing there on the end of the train, gripping the railing in his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white, Ludwig could only stare down at Gilbert, and try his best to keep his face impassive. Tried not to crack, not to let anything show, to let no emotion pass.</p><p>But Gilbert, as a good brother perhaps, always knew when he was fretting.</p><p>"You worry too much, you know. You should try to have a little more fun. Relax a little."</p><p>Easy for Gilbert to say. War <em>was </em>fun for Gilbert.</p><p>It wasn't <em>fun</em> for Ludwig.</p><p>"I <em>have </em>to worry," he finally snitted, as Gilbert leered up at him, "God knows you don't."</p><p>Gilbert rolled his eyes and shrugged him off, and Ludwig shifted his weight anxiously as the train slowly filled up with men. Feeling clammy and nauseous, suddenly. Strangely devastated, under it all.</p><p>It was almost time to go.</p><p>Gilbert was not part of this transport. He was just on leave, and had come down to see his brother off. A fond farewell, because even though Gilbert never worried, that didn't mean that something could not suddenly happen to either one of them. Gilbert wouldn't have missed sending Ludwig off for anything in the world, and Ludwig was painfully aware of that.</p><p>Felt more miserable every second, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Gilbert anymore.</p><p>Gilbert wasn't invincible, although that seemed news to him. Ludwig loved Gilbert to death, loved him, but was also aware of Gilbert's many flaws, and his arrogance and boldness and fearless and recklessness would one day do him in.</p><p>War was unpredictable, and Gilbert was reckless.</p><p>Couldn't stand the thought.</p><p>Gilbert just stared up at Ludwig, smiling away, so easily, and Ludwig felt sick for it. Gilbert was utterly unbothered, so carefree, hair shining away in the sunlight and eyes lit up a pale pink in the white sun. Ludwig stared right back at him, and burned Gilbert's face there into his mind. Loved him so much, didn't want to leave, but had to. Gilbert was <em>reckless</em>, and so Ludwig remembered every single detail about him every time they parted. Just in case.</p><p>"Do you know when you're going back to France?" Ludwig asked, and Gilbert shrugged a shoulder, waving his hand in the air, eyes ever running over Ludwig's face.</p><p>"Ah. Few weeks. Who knows? Since you're leaving, I'll probably try to go back sooner."</p><p>A pang of hurt. Why did Gilbert always have to be that way? Was there any other man on Earth that would cut their leave early to go back to war?</p><p>"Don't push it," Ludwig grumbled, and Gilbert reached up to punch his upper arm, gently, beaming away.</p><p>"Don't tell me what to do, jerk."</p><p>"<em>Someone </em>has to."</p><p>"Someone, maybe, but not you. I'm the man of the household, remember?"</p><p>"Since when?"</p><p>"Since I out-drank you at Oktoberfest four years ago."</p><p>"I was only fourteen. That hardly seems fair."</p><p>"You shouldn't be such a lightweight. That's why you can't tell me what to do."</p><p>Halfhearted jests. Attempts at normalcy. Stupid jokes there on the brink.</p><p>Oh, the way Gilbert was smiling at him was making him so sick, couldn't even stand it. Loved him so much, and didn't want to leave him.</p><p>This guilt was killing him from the inside out. Dumb Gilbert; what did <em>he</em> know?</p><p>Gilbert saw Ludwig's pale forehead and furrowed brow and racing pulse, and mistook it for fear.</p><p>"Hey! Don't worry about it," Gilbert said, eagerly, leaning against the railing with folded arms and placing his chin upon them as he gazed up at Ludwig fondly from the ground. "It's just Norway. What are you so worried about? You're lucky. There's nothin' much goin' on there right now anyway. You don't even have to fight now. I'd rather you went to Norway. You'll be pretty safe there. It'll be like vacation!"</p><p>Vacation? Ha.</p><p>Shaking his head, Ludwig gripped the railing in his hands, fighting off the squirming of nausea in his stomach as he stared ever down at Gilbert from above, still getting his fill of Gilbert's face. Would miss him so much.</p><p>Gilbert just didn't know.</p><p>Ludwig tried to make light of that horrible clamminess churning within, and said, coolly, "Yeah, I get to walk around in the snow and tell people not to run so fast in the streets, and you get to go out and lay around in Paris by the fountains? That's not fair."</p><p>Gilbert only snorted, reached up to place a hand on Ludwig's shoulder, and said, casually, "Your time will come. Better to get your legs first. Learn how to shoot someone, and <em>then </em>you can go to France."</p><p>"I know how to shoot."</p><p>"I know you can shoot. I said learn to shoot <em>someone</em>. You can't just go around holdin' the rifle and bluffing. You need to learn to pull the trigger. You're too nice, Lutz. It'll bite your ass one day, freezin' up like that. Remember the last time?"</p><p>He did. Didn't <em>want</em> to. But he did.</p><p>"I didn't get shot."</p><p>"Because <em>I </em>was there!" Gilbert was quick to point out, and Ludwig could only squirm under Gilbert's heavy hand. "You're a good shot, you're just too nice. Ah, you're still a kid—whaddya <em>you </em>know? Well, <em>I'm</em> glad you're goin' to Norway. It'll be a good breaking in for you. First Norway, and then France, and then the world, right?"</p><p>Their gazes met, and Gilbert's fond look was mingled with pride, and now the guilt was almost unbearable.</p><p>He would never go to France.</p><p>"But, <em>damn</em>, you look good in that uniform!" Gilbert suddenly crooned, taking his hand from Ludwig's shoulder and tucking his fingers within the space between the buttons of his shirt, and it was with a somewhat strained laugh that he added, "You grew up way too fast. I wish you'd have joined the SS instead. Or just stayed at home, better."</p><p>Ludwig could only shrug, and say, lowly, "And let you have all the fun throwing grenades?"</p><p>Gilbert broke into one of those broad, self-satisfied grins then, the ones Ludwig loved, and grabbed the railing, pulling himself upward as he said, "That's it! You sound just like me sometimes!"</p><p>Oh, god—</p><p>And then Gilbert stepped up onto the rung of the railing, tilted his head upwards and kissed Ludwig quickly upon the lips. Gilbert's favorite way of doling brotherly affection. Even in front of <em>everyone</em>. Ludwig pulled away, as he always did, cheeks red.</p><p>"Knock it off," he chided, and as Gilbert pulled away with a leer, Ludwig could only look around in embarrassment, somehow worried that everyone would be watching him. He wasn't as comfortable displaying affection so publicly as Gilbert did. He was always so worried that everyone would stare.</p><p>No one ever did, and it was not such a strange thing, for brothers to show fondness like this. No one gave them a second thought, and Gilbert just rolled his eyes and said, "You're the weirdest guy I ever met. Can't even believe we're related. Still love ya, though."</p><p>Ludwig thought, for just a moment, that his face might have crumpled. That his mask had broken, because damn if he didn't suddenly want to cry and furiously so. Loved Gilbert, so much, always had, but god help him, he didn't want to <em>be</em> Gilbert. That was why he memorized Gilbert's face now, so intently, and why he was a breath away from bursting into tears.</p><p>Gilbert looked so happy. Confident. Gilbert didn't know. <em>No one</em> knew.</p><p>Ludwig quickly blinked away the sting in his eyes, and Gilbert must have seen his break in composure because he clapped Ludwig's arm and gave him a good shake.</p><p>Over the chatter of soldiers and the moving of equipment, there was the sudden blast of the train horn. Last call. It was time to go.</p><p>Came too soon.</p><p>Gilbert reached up and took Ludwig's hand within both of his own, patting the top with that sure, fervent confidence that came so easily to Gilbert, and he said, above the ruckus, "I'll see you when you come back. I'll get leave and meet up with you somewhere, alright?"</p><p>Ludwig could only nod. His throat had clutched up.</p><p>Gilbert gave a laugh, squeezed his hand, and added, "I know I'm hard to let go of, but no need to cry, kiddo. Hey, just be careful, alright? Just...you know. Just be careful. Remember what I told you, please. Don't be so nice. Stay on guard all the time, <em>alright</em>? I'll see you soon."</p><p>"Sure," was all Ludwig could manage, thickly, too close to crying to say much else, and Gilbert placed a firm, swift kiss upon the top of his hand.</p><p>"I'll see you again. Don't be so sad. We'll be together again soon."</p><p>Ludwig nodded, and Gilbert's hand slipped from his own as the train lurched forward.</p><p>Don't cry. Don't cry. He would <em>not</em> cry.</p><p>Couldn't cry. Didn't want that to be the last thing Gilbert remembered.</p><p>"See ya around, Lutz. Take care."</p><p>"Goodbye, Gilbert. I— Please be careful."</p><p>Gilbert lifted his chin, smugly, watched him go, arms crossed above his chest, brow high and smiling, as he looked as though he just <em>knew</em> that everything would be okay. Gilbert was so casual, so unbothered.</p><p>Ludwig felt so dizzy then, because it hurt, to stand there on the end of the train and grab the railing with one hand and wave with the other, and to know that, for all of Gilbert's sure words and promises, Ludwig wouldn't come back. He wouldn't see Gilbert again. He loved that man, always had, but he wasn't going to see him again.</p><p>Goodbye was really farewell.</p><p>Godspeed.</p><p>The wind picked up as the train gained steam, and the great cloud of smoke darkened the sun momentarily from overhead, casting him in a faint shadow. The tracks began to blur. The men behind him were chatting, but he had no mind of them, taking in the last glimpse of Gilbert's pale hair, gleaming silver in the high sun.</p><p>For the last time.</p><p>The tracks passed. Gilbert was far away. Not even a minute later, and he was no longer in sight. And that was that. The others retreated into the car as the wind whipped up, but Ludwig stayed put, removing his cap and keeping it tucked under his arm so that it wouldn't blow away.</p><p>No one knew.</p><p>This train was going to occupied Norway, alright. Ludwig wasn't. He wouldn't be onboard when it pulled in.</p><p>When the train passed through Sweden, Ludwig was going to mysteriously vanish.</p><p>A terrible thing for a man to do, to jump into foreign lands and desert the country that had borne him and sheltered him and raised him. To forgo his instilled pride in his land, and seek asylum in another. The worst thing a man could do, to defect from the motherland that he had been trained to support and adore. An even worse offense for a soldier, bound to protect her by honor and sworn in blood.</p><p>The worst thing a man could do. Ludwig would do it all the same.</p><p>He loved Germany as much as he loved Gilbert. He always would, but it wasn't Germany anymore. It was something else. Something dark. It wasn't the country he had once known, and when this train passed through the quiet, flat fields of Sweden, a country he knew or cared nothing about, he would wait until the night was well along, and when the other soldiers had nodded off, he would hang over the railing and search for a soft-looking spot.</p><p>Jump.</p><p>He wouldn't go to Norway to occupy a town and torment its citizens. He wouldn't wait to get sent out to kill other men on the French border. He wouldn't wait for Gilbert to nudge him into joining the SS. He wouldn't support a cause he did not believe in. He loved Germany. That was why he <em>had</em> to jump, and maybe Gilbert would never understand it, but it was the only way he could keep his pride and his respect for his country's good name.</p><p>Gilbert wouldn't understand, never would, and would hate him for it.</p><p>The hours passed, and Ludwig stood there, lost in his thoughts. As the harsh wind whipped his hair loose of its severe style, he only crossed his arms and stared out into the white and hazel fields, tall grass poking up defiantly through the snow drifts, and the farther and farther away he got from all of that, the lighter the burden on his shoulders became.</p><p>Even though it would <em>shame </em>Gilbert. Even though it would hurt him, more than any bullet ever could. Gilbert loved war. Ludwig couldn't bear any more of it. Gilbert had pushed and pushed, had immersed Ludwig in everything, and Ludwig had seen enough to know that he wasn't where he wanted to be. He would disappear from the world, for a while, and everyone would assume him dead, eventually even stubborn Gilbert, and maybe when this unforgivable war was over he could reemerge from thin air and attempt to contact those whom he had once known.</p><p>Standing there, on the edge of the platform, watching the railroad run back behind him, he could only sigh to himself, as the air grew ever colder, and say aloud to no one, "I'm so sorry, Gilbert."</p><p>Maybe it would be for the best that they wouldn't meet again.</p><p>If he jumped off of this train in the middle of Sweden and tried to defect, Gilbert wouldn't ever <em>want </em>to see him again, anyway. He would be dishonored, and disgraced, doomed to live in shame, and everyone would think him a coward. Especially aggressive, proud Gilbert. He could never go back home. Gilbert would disown him entirely.</p><p>Loved Gilbert, but Gilbert wouldn't love him anymore.</p><p>The fields zoomed by, the white clouds rolled slowly across the endless sky, and for the first time in years, he felt something almost like peace, as the cold wind roared in his ears.</p><p><em>Traitor</em>, Gilbert would say. There were worse things than being called a traitor.</p><p>Murderer was worse.</p><p>The sun began to lower towards the horizon. The sky was pink. He could smell grass and snow and the air was sweet with the outdoors. Sweden was close.</p><p>He tried to feel hopeful. Sweden wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he would learn to ice fish. He could go farther up and see the northern lights. Maybe he could get some dogs and put together a sled team and run them just for fun on the weekends. He would live here as one of them, just a normal person, with a normal job and a normal house and a normal outfit. His gun would be used for hunting deer.</p><p>Not people.</p><p>He would forsake his duties in favor of his conscience.</p><p>He would start a new life out here in the snowy fields and pretend that he had never <em>seen </em>those things, or turned his head away as people screamed, that he had never heard the breaking of glass or smelt the gasoline and smoke from the burning buildings. That he had never heard that gunfire from the street and just closed the curtains. That he had never had the opportunity to save a life and had instead just stood there, frozen. He could pretend that he had done <em>something</em>. Instead of nothing.</p><p>He would be normal here.</p><p>The fields passed. Salvation.</p><p>No one would ever know.</p><p>Ludwig just hadn't known that saying goodbye to Gilbert would really hurt that much.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="xcontrast">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>
        <strong>Chapter 2</strong>
      </p>
      <p>
        <strong>Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down</strong>
      </p>
      <p>Midnight.</p>
      <p>Everything was quiet. The passing of Saturday night into Sunday morning. The clouds were gone. Countless stars. The snow-covered fields gleamed in the moonlight. A trail of white smoke floating out against the dark night sky. The steaming and chugging of a distant train.</p>
      <p>Berwald liked trains.</p>
      <p>He liked the style and the rustic glamour, the power and the speed and the unwavering path. He liked the sound and the smell of them. He liked the look of them. The feel of steel and the glossy iron in the sunlight.</p>
      <p>He liked trains, but only when they did not carry within their bowels something sinister. As this train did.</p>
      <p>The dull, iron railroad tracks stood beneath him, as he paced them back and forth restlessly, with the stars and moon as his light, calculating the distance of the train and the time that would be necessary. The wind was gentle on his back. Within his hands he held a thick bundle; sticks of dynamite, wrapped together neatly and topped off with a long fuse. Continuing his pacing at a leisurely rate, he glanced up, at the curving track, and he could see the faint gleams of the approaching train.</p>
      <p>A fair distance. Fifteen minutes, perhaps, to arrive at the point on which he stood.</p>
      <p>He tossed the bundle mindlessly from one hand to the other, staring blankly into the distance as the aurora shimmered off on the horizon. The headlight of the train beamed out like a searchlight.</p>
      <p>A soft voice suddenly cut through the silence. A quiet hiss of a whisper.</p>
      <p>"Go back about twenty paces, Berwald. I think that should be about right. Don't hold me to it, though."</p>
      <p>Without taking his eyes from the steaming train, Berwald began to take steady strides backwards, and only muttered, lowly, "I <em>will</em>."</p>
      <p>Even though he really wouldn't.</p>
      <p>Timo had been wrong about things before, but Berwald wasn't the type to hold it against him, nor was he the type to say, in hindsight, 'I told you so.' To someone else, yeah, but not to Timo.</p>
      <p>He trusted Timo's judgment.</p>
      <p>This wasn't exactly an art form, anyway, nothing that they had down to a science, but Timo was good at figuring out time and distance and Berwald was really just there to light the fuse. Timo wouldn't light it; not this time. He had refused.</p>
      <p>Twenty paces back, and he fell to one knee, tucking the bundle in between the tracks and aligning it until he saw fit.</p>
      <p>Now it was just a matter of patience.</p>
      <p>Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a lighter, flipping it around in his fingers as Timo, crouching in the field off to the side, stared at his watch and counted down the seconds from under a furrowed brow. Every so often Timo looked up, and Berwald could see the irritation on his face. Timo didn't want to be here, didn't want to do this. Berwald had forced him, and for it had unenthusiastic cooperation.</p>
      <p>Not that Timo didn't like blowing things up, mind, but only when those things happened to be Red.</p>
      <p>The train began to round the wide bend.</p>
      <p>And even though the train barreling towards him should have been the most interesting thing out here, Berwald found that his eyes, in the end, always wound up back on Timo. One way or another.</p>
      <p>Timo's pale hair shone out bright in the moonlight.</p>
      <p>Sensing that he was being watched, perhaps, Timo glanced up from his watch, caught Berwald's eye, and then lifted his brow, shifting his weight in apprehension. Berwald's staring always seemed to make Timo nervous, but that had never stopped him before. Berwald had never been a stranger to staring, and was even less of one to being caught in the act. He was probably a creep, but didn't care much. He liked staring, so he did. Finally, under his stare, Timo dropped his head with pursed lips and tried hard to ignore him.</p>
      <p>Couldn't help it. Timo was worth staring at.</p>
      <p>Timo, that pretty thing, who had fled so recently from the Soviets when they had conquered southern Finland in the Winter War, unwilling to remain in his homeland for as long as the Soviets called it their own. Timo hated them, and for now he was biding time in Sweden. Berwald had welcomed him with open arms. They had been acquainted before, Berwald having lent his services to the Finnish resistance on numerous occasion throughout the short war, although not exactly because he had been interested in Finland's freedom much.</p>
      <p>The first time had been to escape nothingness. He might have trying, that first time, to get shot.</p>
      <p>The other times had just been to go back and see Timo, who Berwald had found immediately captivating, even more so when the testy Finn was bundled in a huge coat and holding a rifle as he hid inside the snowy forests. But that war had been lost and, for now, Timo did what he could here and there, sometimes on the Finnish border, sometimes on the Norwegian, but always kept safe and sound in between in Sweden.</p>
      <p>Berwald watched his back, and in return, Timo watched his, and served as a beacon for Berwald in the meanwhile.</p>
      <p>Timo was smart. His ability to think clearly and with foresight was appreciated, and valuable. Timo was brave. Fearless. Sometimes too fearless, bold and reckless, but never without a plan. Timo was a little crazy, though, violent and brash. A great guy, nice and so friendly to those on his side, but to the <em>other</em> side—whew. Scared the hell out of Berwald sometimes, Timo, but that only made Berwald all the more entranced with him.</p>
      <p>The train rounded the bend, and was steaming straight towards him.</p>
      <p>Timo counted seconds.</p>
      <p>"Okay. <em>Now</em>, Berwald."</p>
      <p>The signal.</p>
      <p>He flipped the lighter to life, and lit the long fuse with a flick of his wrist. The sparks shot into the air, and Berwald pulled himself upright, darting off and following Timo as he rushed back along the tracks, silent and stealthy, and they finally came to rest when they were far enough back to be out of harm's way.</p>
      <p>The train was louder.</p>
      <p>Crouching down in the snow, Berwald straightened his glasses, and rested his gloved fingers upon the ground to balance himself. Timo was down next to him, and before long, he found himself glancing out of the corner of his eye.</p>
      <p>Timo began to shift again.</p>
      <p>The train was closer. The sparks hissed off in the distance.</p>
      <p>Timo squirmed under his relentless stare.</p>
      <p>"How long's the fuse?" Berwald finally asked, if only to make Timo feel less uncomfortable, and Timo shrugged a shoulder, restlessly.</p>
      <p>"Ten minutes. Give or take."</p>
      <p>A silence, and Berwald scoffed, as Timo once again averted his eyes and shifted his weight.</p>
      <p>"Give or take?"</p>
      <p>"<em>Well</em>," Timo whispered, pointedly, "<em>I'm</em> not the expert at bomb making, thanks."</p>
      <p>A deep, "Mm," was the only response he could think of, and after a few minutes of stillness, he finally offered nervous Timo a reprieve and turned his gaze back to the train.</p>
      <p>He could smell the smoke. So close. Then the scent of coal, and with it came the first pang of regret.</p>
      <p>He didn't want to do this, not really. He didn't want to <em>hurt </em>anyone.</p>
      <p>He had been forced into this, and sometimes it was necessary to fight fire with fire. The Germans had been demanding, yes, but all Sweden had had to do was say, 'no'. Sweden didn't have to sell iron ore to Germany. But they did. Sweden didn't have to allow these daily transports of German soldiers through Swedish lands. But they did.</p>
      <p>Had never cared much for the outside world until the start of this war. Wrong was wrong and right was right, and this time Sweden was in the wrong. Didn't really want to fight, but wanted to be neutral even less.</p>
      <p>There were times when the only option was to fight, and this felt like it was his. Because the Germans had Norway and the Soviets had Finland, and Sweden, instead of gathering its courage and sending its sons to fight alongside the repressed, just caved in beneath Axis demands to keep its prospects in good favor as the Axis seemed primed to win this terrible war. Many Swedes had gone into battle alongside the Norwegians, but they were only volunteers. Berwald counted himself as one of them; he just didn't fight for an established army.</p>
      <p>He wasn't a soldier. Wasn't cut for that. Didn't even really want to sabotage this train, but felt he had to do so. Berwald didn't want to hurt anyone, especially unarmed men, but how could he let them reach Norway, where they would be sent back into the war machine?</p>
      <p>A terrible thing, to attack men who could not defend themselves. Sleeping young men.</p>
      <p>Norway was under siege. Berwald aided, as best he could.</p>
      <p>He didn't want to hurt anyone.</p>
      <p>The train was suddenly upon them, and the fierce wind that whipped his hair back made him tense up, and he watched with something that almost felt like lurid fascination as the locomotive sped past them, its great wheels turning and grinding across the land with intent. The train had no idea that this was the end of the line.</p>
      <p>The soldiers were sleeping.</p>
      <p>Beside of him, Timo closed his eyes and turned his head, and for a moment, Berwald almost did the same; who wanted to witness <em>that</em>? To see an explosion that would take the lives of countless, and to know that you were the one that lit the fuse?</p>
      <p>Had to watch. His burden, to watch. Punishment, perhaps.</p>
      <p>The train continued to pass them by, and it was only a minute away from where that dynamite lay in wait, and if everything went according to plan, it would detonate towards the back, demolishing at least three cars and sending the rest toppling over. This train's last journey. The wreckage it left would delay another transport from passing, at least for a few days.</p>
      <p>The last car of the train finally went by.</p>
      <p>A flash of white.</p>
      <p>Berwald looked up, instinctively, and for a second, he was almost too stunned to speak.</p>
      <p>After a short clenching of his throat, he found his voice.</p>
      <p>"Look," he muttered, and Timo's eyes flew open.</p>
      <p>It was obvious right off that he saw it too, as he gave a strangled gasp.</p>
      <p>A soldier, standing at the back of the train.</p>
      <p>Watching.</p>
      <p>They had only crouched down as a protective measure against shrapnel, but they were still very much in sight, bathed in the bright light of the full moon and visible to anyone that would happen to look. But who would have expected a soldier wide awake at this hour and standing at the back like a silent sentinel? Unexpected. Extremely undesirable.</p>
      <p><em>Dangerous</em>.</p>
      <p>And it was also obvious, as the soldier's hair shone white like a beacon in the moon, that he had seen them too. A second of horrendous silence, as the soldier's wide eyes locked onto Berwald's with excruciating clarity. It struck him, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the soldier looked almost as though he had been caught doing something he should not have. He imagined they shared the same look.</p>
      <p>"<em>Berwald</em>," Timo suddenly hissed, in what could have been horror, as he reached out in panic and grabbed a handful of Berwald's sleeve, "He <em>sees </em>us!"</p>
      <p>Indeed the soldier did, and now he was gripping the railing, squinting his eyes against the wind and night as he studied them with an intensity that was alarming. Taking them in. Maybe <em>memorizing </em>them, and he would run and sound the alarm just because they looked so damn suspicious, and would be able to describe them in the morning to the furious generals.</p>
      <p>Holy shit, what a damn inconvenience.</p>
      <p>Berwald may not have been that great of a planner, but who would have ever considered the possibility of a soldier spotting them, even more so from the back, where the explosion was not exactly a death sentence. Who would? What were the chances?</p>
      <p>He had slipped up all the same. This wasn't acceptable. He called himself leader, and couldn't afford to put everyone in danger.</p>
      <p>With a burst of adrenaline, he leapt to his feet so quickly that he knocked Timo backwards, hand flying inside his coat as he reached for his gun, and when he pulled it out, a gleam of steel in the pale moon, he had every intention of shooting the soldier where he stood before he could open his mouth and sound the alarm.</p>
      <p>A flash of panic on the soldier's face as he saw the gun.</p>
      <p>Berwald's finger twitched on the trigger.</p>
      <p>When the gun shot rang out, it was drowned out by something much louder, and the bullet went drastically askew as his arm flew back when the burning fuse finally reached the dynamite. It exploded with such force that Berwald was tossed back onto the ground right next to Timo, even from the distance at which they stood.</p>
      <p>A flash of white so bright that it lit up the fields like high noon, and the middle of the train buckled up into the air as the makeshift bomb detonated beneath it.</p>
      <p>Shards of metal. The smell of gunpowder. The heat wave was nearly unbearable. Screeching and grinding of metal on metal, as the rest of the train collapsed onto its side and the iron crumpled in on itself from the weight and the force of collision.</p>
      <p>Stunned silence.</p>
      <p>After a moment of pained immobility, Berwald finally managed to push himself up out of the snow by his elbows, ears ringing and head pounding, and for a dumb, ridiculous second, his only thought was to say, 'Next time, Timo, use a little less dynamite.'</p>
      <p>Christ.</p>
      <p>But that strange fog of shock quickly wore off, and he dragged himself to his feet as the screeching in his ears began to subside. Reaching down, he grabbed dazed Timo's hand and yanked him to his feet, keeping a firm grip lest he stumble, and then Berwald turned his head. Looking out across the field, he saw destruction.</p>
      <p>Just destruction.</p>
      <p>The train was just a heap of broken metal, hardly better than scrap, a mere memory of the proud locomotive it had once been. Fire burned all around, smoke rose up and clouded the stars, turning the white moon grey. Embers floated and the blaze roared, and everything was still. Nothing moved.</p>
      <p>Timo snatched his hand out of Berwald's, quickly. Berwald didn't notice.</p>
      <p>He had made bombs before. He had killed men before. He had witnessed destruction. Never on such a scale, however, and never having been the <em>cause </em>of it. It was quite overwhelming. Could scarcely comprehend the scene.</p>
      <p>The snow around them began to melt from the unforgiving heat, and Timo came back to earth first, with fervor, and tried to tug immobile Berwald away, urgently.</p>
      <p>"Berwald! We have to <em>go</em>! Come on!"</p>
      <p>His feet were frozen in place, and Timo tugged him all the harder.</p>
      <p>The smoke was pitch-black now as the stores of coal caught fire. The blaze turned into an inferno.</p>
      <p>"<em>Berwald</em>!"</p>
      <p>Timo was agitated and getting irritable. It was time to go.</p>
      <p>He started to move.</p>
      <p>As he allowed Timo to drag him away from the scene of this awful crime, another gleam of that pale light caught his eye, and once again, he looked. He couldn't help it. He always looked.</p>
      <p>That time, it was good that he did.</p>
      <p>Digging his heels into the ground so hard that Timo nearly stumbled backwards, he fell completely still, and stared.</p>
      <p>The last few cars of the train had dislodged and fallen on their sides, perpendicular to the tracks, crashing so hard into the others that they had all but split apart. Debris and great chunks of metal littered the field, and there on the damp ground, half-buried under smoking rubble, lay a solider, and Berwald <em>knew</em>, from that glow of his hair, that it was the same soldier that had seen them from the back of the train.</p>
      <p>Only now his hair was lit up orange from the fire around him.</p>
      <p>The only uncovered base.</p>
      <p>Suddenly it was Berwald who was dragging Timo (unintentionally, but Timo just wouldn't let go of his sleeve, so he was along for the ride whether he liked it or not) across the still, burning fields and towards the wreckage.</p>
      <p>When he was close enough to take the soldier in, Berwald realized, as he knelt down, how <em>young </em>the soldier was. Just a kid. A damn teenager from the look of him. Kid. There was that pang again. So far from home, and so young. Had probably bent sent to war before he'd ever kissed a girl. Covered in soot and blood and unmoving, he just lied there, far away from his friends and family and alone in a land he had no business being in. He hadn't even had a <em>chance</em> to fight back, not a hope of defending himself, and Berwald could only shake his head, regretfully.</p>
      <p>The same color hair. He almost had the same color hair as Timo.</p>
      <p>Oh, he hadn't <em>wanted</em> to <em>hurt </em>anyone. It wasn't this dumb kid's fault he was being shipped off to Norway. The worst wars were those fought by naïve young men.</p>
      <p>"Is he dead?" Timo asked anxiously, hovering over from behind, and Berwald furrowed his brow, reaching down reluctantly and placing two fingers on the German's neck.</p>
      <p>He almost didn't want to know.</p>
      <p>What he felt there, though, was not what he had expected.</p>
      <p>A pulse. Strong and steady.</p>
      <p>He was too stunned to relay this information, and instead just knelt there, head tilted thoughtfully, and now there was another problem. Damn, dumb kid had <em>seen </em>them. So. Now what? Could he risk leaving him here? Could he risk the possibility of being remembered so clearly that he could be sketched out like a two-bit criminal? Run the risk of being captured because of some rookie soldier's description?</p>
      <p>Let everyone down?</p>
      <p>So, what did he do? Shoot him? Leave him? Take him? Take him <em>then </em>shoot him, later?</p>
      <p>What could he do?</p>
      <p>Ah, <em>hell</em>.</p>
      <p>Feeling somewhat overwhelmed and certainly hassled, he reached out and grabbed the soldier's collar, mindful of the fire burning nearby, and with one mighty yank he hauled the unconscious German out from beneath the twisted debris and the acrid smoke.</p>
      <p>Timo was panicking again. Angry, almost. Agitated.</p>
      <p>"Berwald? What are you <em>doing</em>?"</p>
      <p>"He saw us," was his low, rumbling response, and he could hear the alarmed hiss of air through Timo's teeth as he inhaled.</p>
      <p>...what did Timo think should be done?</p>
      <p>"Berwald, maybe..."</p>
      <p>Hesitation.</p>
      <p>Timo stared at him with wide eyes of alarm and uncertainty, glancing down in intervals at the knocked out soldier, and looked about as hassled as Berwald felt. These men weren't Reds; they were Germans, and Timo as well as most other Finns saw these men as favorable. Timo hadn't wanted to hurt them anymore than Berwald had, and seemed eager to wash his hands of this ordeal as quickly as possible.</p>
      <p>"You're not gonna <em>take </em>him, are you?"</p>
      <p>"You'd rather I shoot him?" he asked, looking up to catch Timo's stern gaze, and even though he didn't <em>want</em> to, he would have pulled out the gun and shot the German right there if Timo had sincerely thought it was a better idea.</p>
      <p>If it was safer for everyone.</p>
      <p>Many soldiers were dead, of course, of that he had no doubt. That was war. Casualties of war. That was terrible enough. But to shoot an unconscious man, as he lay helpless and unknowing on the ground, was another matter. That was <em>murder</em>. Sentimentality shouldn't have had a role in this decision, but there had to be a line, <em>somewhere</em>, and if it was crossed then they had only become the very thing they were trying to fight.</p>
      <p>Timo knew it too, and finally, he shook his head. But only because it was a German, and not a Russian. Had it been a Red train, Timo would have made sure that there wasn't one single survivor.</p>
      <p>Satisfied, Berwald took up where he had left off and continued dragging the soldier back from the wreckage, as fast as he could, as suddenly the still fields were coming to life with noise, and he could hear the soldiers that had not perished coming back into consciousness and crying out to their comrades.</p>
      <p>Screaming and shrieking in German, rising up over the silence with hellish cacophony.</p>
      <p>Timo was having second thoughts, no doubt frightened by the soldiers, and it was with a worried, thin voice that he hissed, "Berwald, better yet, let's just leave him! He won't ever see us again. There's no way they could ever find us just because of him!"</p>
      <p>Very likely. However...</p>
      <p>"He might come in handy."</p>
      <p>It was true. A German soldier was <em>invaluable</em>.</p>
      <p>"Berwald!"</p>
      <p>A prize that could be bargained for captured comrades, should any of them ever become so unlucky. A faucet of information, every so often, and if wills were weak. And, if nothing else, a German soldier could be bartered off to the other less forgiving resistance groups for ammunition and weapons (for what ominous purposes need not be considered).</p>
      <p>Or be used as a human shield against the Germans, who would be reluctant to harm one of their own.</p>
      <p>Invaluable.</p>
      <p>The German was coming, whether he or Timo liked it or not.</p>
      <p>Finally, Berwald broke Timo's gaze and managed to utter, gruffly, "Don't worry about it. Let's go."</p>
      <p>His tone clearly indicated the settling of the matter, and Timo foundered, and after a second of silence, he nodded, and turned on his heel.</p>
      <p>With a grunt, Berwald lifted the German up from the ground and slung him unceremoniously over his shoulder, regained his footing, and, with silent Timo leading the way with sure steps, they fled into the night, leaving behind them fire and death.</p>
      <p>Oh, let it be worth it. He hoped it would be worth it.</p>
      <p>War brought out the worst in people.</p>
      <p>The horizon glowed orange, through a haze of smoke. A midnight sunrise.</p>
      <p>Ahead, Timo was grumbling irritably under his breath and had started stomping.</p>
      <p>Too late. No time. There was no time now to dwell on his aching conscience. There were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he would do with this goddamn burden on his shoulder. Thinking about it made his head hurt worse than the fuckin' explosion had; trouble. Nothing but trouble. Damn it all to hell.</p>
      <p>Dumb kid.</p>
      <p>Fine time he had chosen for stargazing.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Don't Take Your Guns To Town</h2></a>
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      <p>
        <strong>Chapter 3</strong>
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      <p>
        <strong>Don't Take Your Guns To Town</strong>
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      <p>The town was quiet in the dawn.</p>
      <p>Snow was falling here, as it often did even in these spring months, the still river was flowing calmly, connecting miles down into the lake, and the forest pines were tall and covered with snow. Nothing stirred. The sun began to break over the horizon, turning the sky a pale pink above the tree line. In the west, the stars were still visible. The moon was fading. The town was quiet in the dawn.</p>
      <p>Actually, the town was <em>always </em>quiet.</p>
      <p>Small and scarcely populated, Duved was hardly more than a ghost town, nestled deep in the forest and at the base of the mountains, isolated and inconspicuous, and that had always been for the best, and it was especially true now, as the car lurched through the snow-covered streets, the whirring of the engine the only sound around, and Berwald was grateful that no one had risen yet to see them pass by.</p>
      <p>Not in these circumstances.</p>
      <p>Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in agitation, he glanced over at Timo, who sat twisted in his seat, head rested atop his folded arm as he kept an eagle eye on the backseat, his other hand resting loosely upon the gun tucked in his belt.</p>
      <p>It was no great surprise <em>why</em>, considering that the backseat was presently occupied by a German soldier. An unconscious one, certainly, unarmed and injured, but a danger nonetheless.</p>
      <p>The soldier was as quiet as the town, still and silent, limp and unmoving, a fallen hand brushing the floor of the car as the vehicle lurched this way and that, matted hair dark with blood, his uniform torn and stained, skin covered with ash and soot, and Berwald could see that the tips of the platinum strands of hair had been singed from the merciless heat.</p>
      <p>Put through the wringer, but still a threat.</p>
      <p>Every so often, on the long journey back to base, he had let out a deep moan, and his limp fingers would twitch as though he were on the verge of coming back into consciousness, and Timo would grab the handle of the gun as Berwald tensed up.</p>
      <p>In the end, the soldier only fell still, and never awoke.</p>
      <p>The smell of leather was mingled with coal and the metallic aroma of blood.</p>
      <p>Blood. Berwald's shirt was stained with the German's blood.</p>
      <p>The farther into town they got, the more Berwald wondered if he had made another damn mistake. Doubt, rising up. A little late now to be fretting, far too late to just open up the door and throw the soldier on the ground with a quick, 'Good luck, kid.' Why didn't he think more about things before he acted?</p>
      <p>"Berwald?"</p>
      <p>He started, and when he turned his head, Timo was watching him lethargically.</p>
      <p>The mists of dawn blanketed the houses as they came closer.</p>
      <p>"You alright?" Timo finally asked, eyes bleary and voice scratchy, and he was smiling, despite it all.</p>
      <p>Timo always tried to smile.</p>
      <p>Berwald could only nod and turn his eyes back to the road, and he tried to be more confident. Not the end of the world. He would let no harm come from this. Too late to go back. He gripped the steering wheel as the snow drifted down grey in the pale light of dawn, and when they rounded a corner and the house was suddenly visible in the distance, the drive full of snow, he heaved a sigh of relief.</p>
      <p>Good to be back. He longed to run inside and wash himself clean of the soot and blood and the smell of coal and gunpowder, and try to scrub himself free of the guilt. Blood.</p>
      <p>Pulling into the drive on the side of the other frozen car, as the snow scraped against the bumper and crunched under the tires, he cut the ignition, and as soon as the silence filled the air, he leaned his head back into the seat and fell still in exhaustion. He could have gone to sleep right there.</p>
      <p>No time, and Timo spurred him on.</p>
      <p>"Come on," Timo whispered, "Let's get him inside."</p>
      <p>Him.</p>
      <p>Berwald pushed out into the snow, opened the back door, and tossed the kid over his shoulder as he had before, waiting for Timo to take the lead. He did, silently and carefully, sneaking up to the front door without a sound and fumbling the key into the lock. A click, and Timo pushed the door, holding it open so that Berwald could haul the catch inside.</p>
      <p>A second of uncertainty in the hall, and then Timo finally whispered, somewhat reluctantly, "Well. Let's just use my room for now."</p>
      <p>Berwald nodded, unable to do much else, following Timo as they crept down the hall. He glanced up past the man on his shoulder to the staircase, taking as much care as possible that he would not awaken those above. Annoyances were best avoided.</p>
      <p>He could feel the warm trickle of blood creeping down his back as it soaked through his shirt, and resisted the urge to squirm. Maybe the kid wouldn't even pull through. Damn. A lot of work for nothing.</p>
      <p>Berwald shifted position awkwardly as he struggled to maintain his balance and make it through the hall without thunking the soldier's already bloody head upon the wall. In this little house, practically any noise could be heard. A floorboard suddenly gave a mighty creak beneath him as he took a gentle step forward, and he suppressed a wince, glancing upward in sync with Timo, who ushered him through all the more quickly, a look of apprehension upon his face.</p>
      <p>Somehow, even though he was home, he still felt like some kind of criminal. Sneaking around here and there, seeking to keep his presence hidden.</p>
      <p>Mercifully, they reached Timo's room without incident, and when Timo leaned in and pushed the door open, he cringed at the sound of the squeaking hinges. A hesitation, and then Timo pushed it open fully, and they slipped inside.</p>
      <p>Berwald felt the first twinge of relief. So far, so good.</p>
      <p>A dull, heavy thud, as he tossed the unconscious German upon the bed none-too-gently, and Berwald was quick to lean above him and pin him down by the shoulders (just in case) as Timo rummaged here and there for something to tie him down with. Finally, with nothing available and apparently reluctant to leave Berwald alone with the soldier, Timo unclasped his belt and slipped it from the loops, kneeling down and swiftly tying the German's bruised wrist to the iron bar beneath the mattress. A firm, but not completely unyielding position, and if the soldier did wake up, he would be able to sit upright instead of being forced to constantly lay.</p>
      <p>Timo, always considerate. To Germans, at least. A Red would have never entered this house alive.</p>
      <p>Now that the soldier was at least partially secure, Timo straightened up, and said, quickly, "I'll go find some rope or something. I'll be right back!"</p>
      <p>He darted to the door, and Berwald was left alone, one heavy hand pressing into the German's chest to keep him pinned.</p>
      <p>A moment of dazed exhaustion, as the night caught up to him, and finally Berwald allowed himself a slight reprieve, and settled down on the edge of the bed, covering his face with a rough palm. He smelled of gunpowder. Metal.</p>
      <p>He was damn tired.</p>
      <p>Darkness.</p>
      <p>The pressure he exerted upon the soldier began to slacken. He could feel himself tottering on the verge of sleep. Calm. Quiet. No explosion. No screams. Just silence. He could nod off, just for a minute. Just to rest his eyes.</p>
      <p>A sudden, horrible vision of the German starting awake and taking his gun right out from under him as he sat there unawares. The echo of a gunshot.</p>
      <p>Couldn't risk sleep, and it was with regret that he let his hand drop and refocused his blurry attention on the soldier below. Twisting at the waist, he peered down and observed the damage. The pillow was already wet with blood. Probably should have tossed him on the floor. Leaning in and blinking forcefully to clear his vision, Berwald pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scrutinized.</p>
      <p>He wasn't sure whether or not he should be relieved.</p>
      <p>The blood looked alarming at first, dripping and soaking into everything, but it really wasn't as bad as it seemed; a gash on his forehead, a few cuts on his scalp. A deep puncture in his upper arm. Probably suffering a concussion. Scraped and bruised. Bloody, but not gravely injured. Kid would be fine. Unhappy, and probably mad as hell, but just fine. Well, he wouldn't be too much of a threat after such a great blow to the head, and he would probably be too sore to move for a few days.</p>
      <p>Favorable time for deciding what they would do with him.</p>
      <p>With a heavy sigh, he turned his eyes up to the window, the drawn curtains allowing him a view outside. The sun was breaking over the mountains. Pink mixed with gold. Snow drifted gently down. The first rays of the sun gleamed off the white peaks. Little houses here and there, nestled at the base of the mountain range, some of them already awake and chimneys smoking, golden lights glowing out from the pale mists of dawn like beacons.</p>
      <p>It was quiet here. Never any trouble. Just a little mountain town, with hardly a hundred residents, surrounded on all sides by either forests or mountains or expensive cabins that were rented out to rich tourists who came to explore the ideal slopes. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone minded their own business. Serene. An ideal place to live, especially for someone like him, who avoided society diligently. A pretty little town.</p>
      <p>Never any trouble.</p>
      <p>Until now.</p>
      <p>And this house, just as pretty and normal as the rest, had turned into something that was not so peaceful and not so serene. Silent danger. The town need not know of the things that went on in this house. Those who proudly declared themselves freedom fighters amongst friends maintained the mask of normalcy in the face of the public.</p>
      <p>To bring a German soldier here, dressed in this uniform, iron eagle boasted upon his breast, clutching in its talons a swastika, was ascending to a new level of recklessness. He had kept a low profile in this town. So many trials he had passed, so many dangers and so many risks, so many brushes with catastrophe, and no one had ever even looked at him twice. Now this dumb kid came along and put his safety here on the line.</p>
      <p>...maybe he should have shot him.</p>
      <p>Footsteps in the hall.</p>
      <p>He watched the door, expectantly, but instead of the click of the doorknob, he heard something else.</p>
      <p>A voice.</p>
      <p>"What's going on?"</p>
      <p>His heart lurched in alarm.</p>
      <p>Their stealth had not been enough, apparently, for Timo's steps had stopped, and from behind the door, Berwald heard a familiar, obnoxious voice suddenly say, eagerly, "Hey, Timo! You're back! I was wonderin' who was creepin' around down here."</p>
      <p>Stiffening up and feeling a burning of aggression within his chest, Berwald bolted upright and followed Timo's lead and removed his belt, securing the German's other wrist to the bed frame and stepping over to the door, pushing it gently open and poking his head out as inconspicuously as possible.</p>
      <p>What he saw there burned him. As usual.</p>
      <p>Timo stood there, twisting a short rope restlessly between his fingers, and he was blocked from entering the hall at the staircase by a man taller than he was, who leaned against one wall lethargically and extended his arm to rest upon the other so that there would be no passing. Timo made no attempt to pass by, smiling in that friendly manner that he always did, staring up at the man before him like nothing was really out of the ordinary.</p>
      <p>Nothing really was.</p>
      <p>Because Magnus, tall and unkempt, his pale, messy hair sticking out in every which direction from too much sleep and not enough combing, was <em>always </em>splayed out somewhere or another, leaning this way and that and shifting his weight here and there, his whole stance dripping with confidence.</p>
      <p>Magnus.</p>
      <p>Berwald's least favorite member of their unspoken group, if, of course, it could really be called that. There was not much organization; just a few unhappy souls brought together in a time of war to fight for what they believed in.</p>
      <p>As Timo had fled occupied Finland, so Magnus had fled occupied Denmark. Maybe Magnus had things he believed in. Maybe Magnus fought as hard as anyone else. That didn't mean that Berwald could stomach looking at him. That didn't mean he had to like Magnus. There was no written rule that rebels had to be <em>friends, </em>and he wasn't going to waste time pretending to be, either.</p>
      <p>Damn, did Berwald ever hate Magnus. The feeling was mutual.</p>
      <p>Grabbing the doorknob in his hand, Berwald straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, and when he yanked it open and took a step forward into the hall, Magnus' head wrenched over and his gaze snapped up. A moment of immobility, as Magnus' eyes widened in what could have been shock and he half-turned, then a sharpening and darkening of his face, and there was no doubt in Berwald's mind that his look was saying, 'Why the great flying fuck are you coming out of Timo's room?'</p>
      <p>A twitching of Magnus' stance, but before harsh words could be uttered, Timo came forward and looked past him, catching Berwald's eyes, and saying, loudly, "Yeah, we just got back a few minutes ago."</p>
      <p>Silence.</p>
      <p>Finally, Magnus relented, refocusing his attention back to Timo.</p>
      <p>"Right! Yeah. Anyway, I'm glad you're back."</p>
      <p>Leaning against the wall in an intentional mockery of Magnus, Berwald crossed his arms above his chest and glowered at them from behind.</p>
      <p>He hated Magnus.</p>
      <p>Magnus took a step towards Timo, reaching up and straightening his flipped, wrinkled collar and brushing the sleep from himself as the rising sun began to stream through the curtains, and finally he smiled.</p>
      <p>"So! How'd it go? Oh! How was your bomb? Alright? I know you were, ah, <em>excited</em> about making it." Before Timo could even answer any of the quick questions, Magnus dropped a large hand down upon his shoulder, adding, eagerly, "I'm glad you're alright. I was worried about you."</p>
      <p>Timo opened his mouth, smile upon his face, and it was only because he couldn't bear to hear the response that Berwald took a step forward and interrupted, less than politely, "He can take care of himself."</p>
      <p>Magnus turned around to stare Berwald down and opened his mouth, but before the words of aggression could be spoken, he froze still. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly his look was not so harsh, and he asked, almost in alarm, "Say, what happened? Is all of that your blood?"</p>
      <p>Berwald was caught still in a moment of incomprehension, but when he looked down, dumbly, he remembered that his shirt was soaked through with blood. Magnus had finally realized it. Shifting his weight, Berwald finally looked back up, and stayed silent.</p>
      <p>The hall was still.</p>
      <p>Ah, hell.</p>
      <p>Finally, Timo began, anxiously and reluctantly, "Right! Ah, about that."</p>
      <p>Timo shuffled this way and that as Magnus' unyielding gaze fell upon him. Berwald could only wait for the inevitable.</p>
      <p>"There was a, <em>ah</em>, a <em>setback</em>. We did run into a little...problem."</p>
      <p>A strange silence, and Magnus repeated, "A problem?"</p>
      <p>Timo's forehead gleamed with a cold sweat.</p>
      <p>"Ah. Well, you see, it's, ah..."</p>
      <p>Struggling for words and finding none, Timo finally gave a strangled, helpless sigh, and pointed to his bedroom door.</p>
      <p>And here it was. Game over.</p>
      <p>Magnus tensed his shoulders and looked back and forth between them, brow low and suddenly wide awake, and it was clear from the expression on his face that he was still awaiting an explanation. But Berwald had no words for him and Timo had lost his nerve, and finally, Magnus crept towards the door. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at it as though he were almost afraid to see what lay in wait on the other side. A glance over his shoulder, and he met Berwald's gaze.</p>
      <p>After a second of intense, unfriendly staring, Magnus finally huffed in a great breath and pushed open the door. Berwald waited patiently for the explosion. Tick tock, tick tock, and so forth. Magnus was just another bomb, after all.</p>
      <p>It didn't take long.</p>
      <p>A shriek.</p>
      <p>"<em>CHRIST</em>!"</p>
      <p>A second of silence, and then the door slammed so hard it probably left a hole in the wall, and Magnus came skidding out, bare feet sliding on the wooden floor and absolute hell in his eyes. Berwald only stared straight at him, trying to appear supremely unconcerned despite the racing of his heart. Timo was shifting anxiously at his side, squirming in discomfort.</p>
      <p>Now. How to explain this. Magnus was already pitching a fit. Berwald was going to have to come up with some good bullshit to satiate him.</p>
      <p>Magnus' wide, alarmed blue eyes settled onto his own, and if the circumstances hadn't been so serious, Berwald might have burst into laughter at Magnus' appearance. Standing there, mouth half-open in complete shock, eyes impossibly wide, messy, crumpled clothing hanging off of him, his too-long pant legs pooling around his bare feet, hair sticking out to high heaven, and he looked them back and forth in turn, sputtering incomprehensible words as he pointed dramatically to the door.</p>
      <p>"Wha—what..."</p>
      <p>After a struggle, Magnus found his voice.</p>
      <p>Loudly.</p>
      <p>"What the <em>hell </em>is <em>THAT</em>? What were you thinking? What's in god's name were you thinking? We don't take prisoners! That's the rule! We don't <em>do </em>this shit! How could you have brought him here? We said we wouldn't do anything to risk gettin' found out! How could you bring a <em>soldier </em>here? You should have <em>shot </em>him! What were you <em>THINKING</em>?"</p>
      <p>A few more incomprehensible growls and hisses, and then Magnus fell still, attempting to stare Berwald down. Berwald, to whom his entire tirade had been directed, as Magnus had chosen to neatly ignore Timo during his outburst. Not surprising. Magnus wouldn't blame Timo for anything as long as Berwald was around to take the brunt of his outbursts.</p>
      <p>Unmoving and impassive, Berwald met his gaze, and said nothing. Let Magnus shout. What was done was done. No changing it.</p>
      <p>Regaining his nerve, Timo came forward, and his voice was gentle and soothing as he said, carefully, "Hey, calm down! It'll—It'll be alright! We'll figure out what we're gonna do with him. Everything will be alright. Don't worry about it. Nobody will ever know. We'll be careful."</p>
      <p>An agitated silence, as Magnus held stiff arms down at his sides and looked for all the world as though he was about to punch somebody (Berwald) in the face, but when Timo took another step forward and placed a hand upon his upper arm, he finally straightened up, and furrowed his brow.</p>
      <p>"Whose idea was it?"</p>
      <p>A silence.</p>
      <p>Timo tried to laugh it off. "What does it matter, now?"</p>
      <p>"Whose idea was it?" Magnus asked again, sternly and refusing to be deflected, and Timo looked over his shoulder, casting Berwald a helpless stare.</p>
      <p>Finally, Berwald pushed off the wall, standing straight in the hall, and said, simply, "Mine."</p>
      <p>Magnus raised a hand to his forehead, scoffing spitefully. "Shoulda known! Only <em>you </em>woulda thought this would be <em>fine</em>. I would <em>never</em>—"</p>
      <p>"You're right," Berwald interrupted, as his ire rose ever higher, "You would never. Between the two of us, I'm the only one that's ever <em>thought</em>."</p>
      <p>And damn, that was saying a <em>lot</em>, because Berwald knew he was a great goddamn idiot.</p>
      <p>Timo sent him a stern look, looking irritated already. Timo hated it when they fought.</p>
      <p>And they fought a lot.</p>
      <p>Magnus' shoulders stiffened, and for a moment his foot raised as though he were going to rush forward, but in the end, he brushed off the insult neatly and turned attention back to the problem that was tied to Timo's bed.</p>
      <p>"That's not the— You shouldn't have <em>brought </em>him here!" Magnus cried, angrily, as he hit the wall with his fist. "What if something happens? It'll be <em>your </em>fault! Didn't you even think about this at all? What if something goes wrong? What then? This wasn't <em>your </em>decision to make!"</p>
      <p>Berwald could not help but notice that Magnus' angry gaze kept twitching over to Timo, and he could clearly see that the harsh look said something along the lines of, 'How could you have let him do this?'</p>
      <p>Timo just sent him a half-hearted glare in return, perhaps retorting, 'What could <em>I </em>do about it?'</p>
      <p>Berwald hated it when they communicated silently with just looks. Timo and Magnus had some level of understanding that was alarming to him.</p>
      <p>"Last time I checked," Berwald finally said, voice low and commanding, "<em>I </em>was in charge here. You don't like it? Then go."</p>
      <p>Let him go.</p>
      <p>Timo was watching Magnus with a look of warning, and Magnus seemed to be struggling to obey Timo's silent command, but in the end Magnus obeyed <em>no one</em>, and finally he could contain his voice no longer.</p>
      <p>"The last time <em>I </em>checked," he spat, as Timo shook his head in disappointment, "we didn't <em>have </em>a leader! You only think you're in charge because they don't say anything otherwise! We don't have a leader. We make decisions together. And if anybody is gonna be in charge, it should be <em>me</em>, because you just fuck everything up! You should have shot him! What's the matter with you?"</p>
      <p>Berwald wished that he would leave. God, let him leave. No one needed Magnus here.</p>
      <p>A moment of animus staring, and finally Timo came forward and stepped in between them, brow low and eyes stern.</p>
      <p>"That's enough."</p>
      <p>How did this always happen? Magnus opened his loud mouth and Berwald always took the bait, and they were at each others' throats, so focused on <em>hurting </em>each other that they hardly ever stopped to think if they were hurting someone else, and it was always Timo who was finally forced to step in between them, risking possible injury, to pry them apart with anger and exasperation.</p>
      <p>Timo, the parent to rowdy children.</p>
      <p>Shameful.</p>
      <p>Berwald finally fell back, and ended the confrontation. He didn't like conceding, but Magnus was simply not worth the disappointment on Timo's face. Let Magnus have the last word, and earn Timo's disdain for it.</p>
      <p>He would not.</p>
      <p>Straightening up and lifting his chin, he nodded his head and turned quickly on his heel, stalking off towards the door in search of cool air, and despite his victory, Magnus still cried after him, "What? Don't you have anything to say?"</p>
      <p>"<em>Magnus</em>!" came Timo's angry hiss.</p>
      <p>Magnus just wasn't worth it.</p>
      <p>"Yeah," he finally grumbled as he reached for the doorknob. Berwald had <em>many </em>things he would like to say, but he finally summed up with a snappy, "Go comb your goddamn hair."</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>"Don't let him get to you. He's all talk. Hot air, you know."</p>
      <p>The pale sun was rising steadily in the sky.</p>
      <p>"Yeah. I know."</p>
      <p>The snow had stopped, and now Berwald sat here at this little wooden picnic table that he and Timo had pieced together the first few weeks here, drumming his fingers irritably on the top as the man across from him stared at him tranquilly.</p>
      <p>White-blond hair smooth and dusted with snow, dark blue calm and placid, Lukas was a striking contrast to loud, vociferous Magnus, and Berwald wondered why they were friends. Go figure. Lukas and Magnus seemed to love each other, and that was strange.</p>
      <p>"Why <em>did</em> you bring him back, anyway?" Lukas suddenly asked, hands folded neatly upon the cold wood, and Berwald shrugged a restless shoulder.</p>
      <p>"He saw us. Didn't think it'd be good to leave him there."</p>
      <p>Calmly, Lukas nodded his head, and raised a finger to his chin, thoughtfully.</p>
      <p>"I understand. Well, then. Don't worry about it. You did what you thought was right. Magnus just loves drama. I'll talk to him about it."</p>
      <p>For all the good it would do.</p>
      <p>Berwald nodded nonetheless, and fell still, turning to watch the quiet forests. So peaceful here. He hoped he hadn't ruined it.</p>
      <p>A quick tap of a slender finger upon his hand. He looked over, and Lukas was leaning forward, watching him with what could have been curiosity. It didn't take long to find out what he wanted.</p>
      <p>"So," Lukas finally asked, cool voice barely eager, "How'd it go? Did the fuse light up fast? Did Timo make me proud?"</p>
      <p>Berwald narrowed his eyes as he remembered with clarity the massive force of the explosion, and was suddenly suspicious.</p>
      <p>
        <em>Use a little less dynamite next time.</em>
      </p>
      <p>Yeah right. Not if Lukas ever had his way.</p>
      <p>"I should've known," he grumbled, and Lukas placed his chin in his palm, thoroughly unconcerned.</p>
      <p>"I guess that means 'yes'. I only <em>suggested </em>making an impression. Didn't think he'd really do it."</p>
      <p>"Two sticks less woulda been sufficient."</p>
      <p>He should have known that Timo's over-explosive bomb had been the result of Lukas' 'suggestions'. Lukas, a <em>real </em>expert at bomb making, had a taste for the dramatic as much as he ever accused Magnus of having, and of course he would have <em>hinted </em>to Timo, in that hypnotic voice of his, that bigger truly was better.</p>
      <p>"Two less?" Lukas finally murmured dreamily, after a thoughtful silence, and Berwald could only watch him with interest as he rested his hands behind his head and leaned back on the bench, in danger of toppling backwards, and finally he said, idly, "I'd've used one more."</p>
      <p>Right.</p>
      <p>"I'm sure you would've," was his cool response, and Berwald pulled himself to his feet and turned on his heel and walked off, hands tucked in his pockets as Lukas stared up at the white sky silently.</p>
      <p>The crazy son of a bitch probably would have struggled with the urge to shove about <em>three </em>more sticks of dynamite in that bundle. If it had been <em>his </em>mission, he probably would have vaporized the whole damn field in a flash of fire. And that dumb kid would be just a pile of ashes.</p>
      <p>"Next time, let me do it!" Lukas cried from behind, as he made towards the front door.</p>
      <p>"We'll see."</p>
      <p>Sometimes, Berwald wondered if Lukas was just really...</p>
      <p>"I'm always around, you know. Boom, boom."</p>
      <p>...a sociopath. Or a psychopath. He wasn't sure of the difference, not exactly, but there was definitely more than one screw loose up in Lukas' head.</p>
      <p>Then again, that was what made him interesting, Berwald supposed, and even though it seemed strange, that cool detachment made Lukas one of the most valuable men they had. He had the ability to analyze and rationalize and make cold, hard decisions, something that Magnus lacked and that Timo possessed but was unpracticed in, and Berwald had choked about shooting the soldier, hadn't he?</p>
      <p>Lukas would have shot him.</p>
      <p>Lost in his thoughts and seeking to avoid humanity for a while, yet too agitated to sleep, Berwald slipped up the stairs and into the bathroom, and as soon as he flipped the lock, he sank down onto the closed toilet and buried his face in his hands.</p>
      <p>He was tired of this whole mess. War. Stress. It couldn't end soon enough. Bombs and soldiers, trains and death. Blood. Fighting. When he wasn't fighting the enemy, he was fighting amongst his own.</p>
      <p>In the end, he was alone.</p>
      <p>Alone.</p>
      <p>He stepped into the showed, and washed the night away. The water ran crimson into the drain.</p>
      <p>Time passed.</p>
      <p>The burn of anger began to fade as the water soothed his frazzled nerves. The soldier's blood was gone. He felt better.</p>
      <p>It was only the remembrance of the sleeping danger that forced his feet to move along, and he reluctantly left the comfort of the shower and came back into the cool air. It would be prudent to make sure the German was still out cold.</p>
      <p>When he made for the stairs and he hit the floor below, he realized he was not alone. Lukas was there before the door, dressed neatly and heavily weighed down by a pack, and when he saw Berwald, he sent him a nod of acknowledgement.</p>
      <p>Where was Lukas off to now? He never told anyone where he was going, or when he was coming back. What he was up to.</p>
      <p>One thing Berwald couldn't stand about Lukas.</p>
      <p>"Where are you going?" Berwald finally asked, and after a second of silence, Lukas grabbed the doorknob, calm and serene.</p>
      <p>"Out," was his simple response, and with that, he pushed the door open and disappeared.</p>
      <p>Berwald stood still, and he could only imagine, from the huge backpack that Lukas was hauling, that 'out' meant somewhere close to the Norwegian border, and he was probably going to use his citizenship to get close enough to one of the German strongholds or checkpoints to blow it all to hell.</p>
      <p>Well, he trusted Lukas to go alone, which was great, because Lukas was already gone.</p>
      <p>With nothing else to do and not wanting to bump unwittingly into Magnus, Berwald retreated back into the hall, hands tucked in his pocket and brow low, and headed towards Timo's bedroom. When he stepped inside, he realized Timo was already there, sitting before the bed in a chair, book in hand. He looked up when Berwald entered, marking his page, and smiled.</p>
      <p>Berwald inclined his head to the soldier, who still lied there immobile and still, and he asked, "Hasn't woke up yet?"</p>
      <p>Timo shook his head, voice a whisper when he said, "Nah. I don't think it'll be much longer though. He's been moving a little bit."</p>
      <p>Behind the constant smile, Timo's eyes were tired, the dark circles beneath clearly visible. Immediately, Berwald came over and plucked the book from his hands, pointing to the door.</p>
      <p>"Out. Go to sleep. I'll watch him."</p>
      <p>Timo didn't need to be told twice, and pulled himself to his feet quickly, seeming more than eager to actually be able to lie down and rest. The gentle click of the door as he left, no doubt to usurp Berwald's empty bed, and after a second of dumb standing, Berwald fell into the chair, and held the book in his lap.</p>
      <p>He took the time to observe, and he almost smiled.</p>
      <p>Timo had tidied up.</p>
      <p>The German's pale hair had been wiped through to free it off blood and ash, the cuts had been either stitched up or patched, and the bloodied pillow sat off on the floor in the corner, a new one resting beneath their captive's head. His face had been cleaned of the soot, and he looked less frightening now that he was pale and still and free of most of the blood that had stained him. But the uniform was still there, no doubt, torn and mottled, hidden beneath the blanket that Timo had thrown above him.</p>
      <p>The hastily tied belts had been replaced by strong rope.</p>
      <p>Outside the sun was high. Noon.</p>
      <p>Dumbly, Berwald looked down at the book in his lap, and felt a twinge of something he couldn't quite place. An old book of Finnish fairytales. Berwald opened the book to the page where it had been marked, and observed the colorful illustrations.</p>
      <p>Mikko and the fox.</p>
      <p>Snorting, he glanced over at the unconscious German, and said lowly to him, "Was he reading this to you?"</p>
      <p>It wouldn't surprise him. Timo could read the kid soldier a fairytale if he wanted to. No harm. Closing the book and clasping it securely within his arms, he leaned back into the chair and stared quietly at the German, tapping his foot absently.</p>
      <p>The hours passed. Time always fled far too quickly.</p>
      <p>His stare became unfocused, falling on the end of the bed as his head dropped down a bit. The high sun was ever lowering. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Still, as the bright sun turned orange in the afternoon, low above the mountains, the soldier did not awaken. But Timo did, when night was near, and Berwald hadn't realized that he had been dozing until a hand fell upon his shoulder. He jumped and looked up in alarm, and it was Timo smiling down at him.</p>
      <p>"Did he wake up yet?"</p>
      <p>"No."</p>
      <p>"Good. Listen, Magnus went after Lukas just to keep an eye out. You know how he gets."</p>
      <p>He nodded.</p>
      <p>The more time that Magnus was out of the house, the better.</p>
      <p>"Do you want me to take over so you can lay down?"</p>
      <p>Berwald shook his head, turning his eyes to the bed, continuing his staring contest with absolutely no one, and Timo retreated with a soft, "Alright. I'll check in later."</p>
      <p>He nodded, dazedly, and even though he knew he shouldn't have, as soon as the door shut and Timo was gone, he closed his eyes, and was out like a light. His head fell down, chin tucking into his collarbone. Exhaustion was too strong to fight. The sun disappeared behind the mountains. Evening faded into a gentle night. His fingers twitched around the book as he faded in and out of REM. Behind the blanket of sleep and night, he thought he heard noises.</p>
      <p>Moonlight streamed in through the window. Shadows jumped across the room.</p>
      <p>A loud, dull thud.</p>
      <p>With a sharp intake of breath, Berwald bolted awake, looking around in a bleary daze.</p>
      <p>Darkness. The air was cold. His eyes began to adjust, and when the room came back into focus and the shock of sleep was shaken off, he realized that the book had slipped from his lap and onto the floor. That was it. There was no danger. The German was still there, in the same spot. His hair was easy to see, glowing white in the moonlight.</p>
      <p>Squinting to clear his vision, Berwald looked up at the clock on the wall. Midnight.</p>
      <p>Then he heard that noise again, clearly, and he realized that it was the rustling of sheets. Alarmed and wide awake with adrenaline, he reached over to the side and flipped the lamp on, casting the room in a dim, golden light. With it, he could see that the soldier was moving. Barely, just the twitching of sleep and the rolling of discomfort, but moving nonetheless.</p>
      <p>Berwald furrowed his brow, and watched.</p>
      <p>The twitching began to intensify. Tossing. Deep, low groans of pain. The German was hovering on the verge of consciousness. He would wake up at any moment.</p>
      <p>Berwald waited.</p>
      <p>And then Lukas made an appearance, if only in spirit, and the silence of the cool, calm landscape was shattered by a distant explosion (now <em>that </em>was a bomb!) so powerful even from <em>so </em>far away that the house shook, just a bit. But it was enough, the push needed, and with a deep, strangled gasp, the German awoke and bolted upright.</p>
      <p>A second of silence. Wide, ice-blue eyes locked onto his own for the second time. Palest blue he'd ever seen in someone's eyes.</p>
      <p>Berwald tensed and prepared for the tirade and the struggle against the ropes, but it never came.</p>
      <p>The German opened his mouth, but before he could even utter a word, he broke off and bowed his head, jerking his wrists in a vain attempt to reach up and cradle his temples. He couldn't reach, tethered too close to the metal bars, and finally fell still, bent at the waist and hanging his head down as far as he could, squinting his eyes shut and twitching, and it was obvious to Berwald that he was in too much pain to even think, let alone speak.</p>
      <p>Silence.</p>
      <p>Reaching out, Berwald turned the lamp and dimmed the light as low as it would go, to spare the soldier needless discomfort, and waited, patiently.</p>
      <p>He hoped that Lukas had not run into any similar problems.</p>
      <p>Minutes of gathering himself against the concussion, and then finally the soldier managed to raise his head, his pale, bleary eyes turning up to Berwald after a moment of searching. Incomprehension. Confusion. He spoke then, and his voice was so deep and rough and scratchy that Berwald was momentarily shocked that it belonged to someone so pale and young.</p>
      <p>"Who are you?"</p>
      <p>Berwald sat still.</p>
      <p>The German squinted his eyes in pain, and his gaze quickly fell down to his bound wrists. A gentle tug, and when he found himself completely immobile, he furrowed his brow and tilted his head, and a low, throaty whine of frustration escaped.</p>
      <p>"What did I do?" came the next question, and this time it was Berwald who tilted his head in confusion, when the German turned hazy eyes back over to him and said, strangely, "I didn't jump. I didn't. Untie me. I didn't jump."</p>
      <p>His look was almost guilty, and Berwald realized that the German might have been conscious, alright, but he was <em>not </em>awake. The concussion had knocked his senses out.</p>
      <p>He tugged weakly at the ropes, and Berwald finally said, roughly, "Lay down."</p>
      <p>The words felt strange on his tongue, clumsy German that he hadn't spoken for a while, and it had always been easier for him to understand it than to speak it.</p>
      <p>For a moment, the soldier only stared at him, and then his eyes darkened and he hung his head again, and Berwald could see that he was slipping back into unconsciousness. That was for the best. In the morning, he would gather everyone up and hold a thorough conversation about this man's fate.</p>
      <p>"Lay down. Sleep."</p>
      <p>He obeyed, and as the German fell back down, drifting back into darkness, Berwald heard him mutter to himself, blearily and dazedly, "Feel like I've been hit by a train..."</p>
      <p>Berwald only tilted his head, staring at the soldier as he fell still, and murmured, thoughtfully, "Mm."</p>
      <p>It had taken quite a bit of self-control not to throw out, 'You don't say?'</p>
      <p>He sat there for a few minutes, to make sure that the soldier was truly asleep, and when he was satisfied, he leaned back into his chair and picked the book up from the floor. He was grateful that he had been spared the outburst, at least this time. He was too tired now to deal with a thrashing Wehrmacht. The next time the German awoke, however, when the haze in his head cleared up, things would not go so smoothly. There would probably be hell to pay.</p>
      <p>But for now...</p>
      <p>The German tossed restlessly, unable to turn for his bonds.</p>
      <p>Berwald's mind wandered in the midst of darkness. Lukas would be on his way back. Magnus too.</p>
      <p>The dark night began to turn pale blue in the breaking dawn. The air grew ever cooler.</p>
      <p>He dreamt of the end of the war, when the Axis and the Soviets were pushed back into their own lands, and everything was peaceful and calm, there were no more explosions, no more soldiers, and on the last day before Timo went home, Berwald grabbed his hand and asked him if he would stay in Sweden for just a little longer, and Timo smiled and nodded and then reached up and threw his arms around his neck—</p>
      <p>"Berwald!"</p>
      <p>He started awake, and his dream faded into a drab reality, where the war was still raging, and there were still explosions and people dying, and Timo was only here because there was nowhere else to go, and instead of Timo's hand within his own, there was a German soldier in the bed. Timo smiled at Magnus, not at him.</p>
      <p>Reality stung.</p>
      <p>Forcing himself from his daze, he turned to the door, where Timo stood, but this time the look upon his face was frightening, and Berwald sat up in alarm, heart racing.</p>
      <p>"What's wrong?"</p>
      <p>A silence, as Timo stepped in and closed the door behind him, and he looked scared, and disheartened. Maybe completely crestfallen. Finally, he opened his mouth, and when he spoke, his words were not what Berwald had hoped for.</p>
      <p>"Magnus just called."</p>
      <p>His heart sank in dread.</p>
      <p>Timo's voice was barely a whisper.</p>
      <p>"They caught Lukas."</p>
      <p>Deathly silence.</p>
      <p>Their eyes fell upon the sleeping German at the same time.</p>
      <p>The dawn was breaking.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In The Jailhouse Now</h2></a>
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      <p>
        <strong>Chapter 4</strong>
      </p>
      <p>
        <strong>In The Jailhouse Now</strong>
      </p>
      <p>Bring the Devil in your boat, and you must row him to shore.</p>
      <p>That was what his grandmother had told him, at any rate, whenever he had wanted to act tough as a child and had set off to cut the firewood before realizing how hard it was and trying to give up. A stern pinch on his arm and a gentle shove back towards the axe had deterred him, and she had only pointed towards the uncut lumber and said, 'Berwald, bring the Devil in your boat, and you must row him to shore.'</p>
      <p>You started this on your own, so finish it.</p>
      <p>By god, he had started this mess. He would see it through.</p>
      <p>But he hadn't ever wanted any of <em>this</em> to happen. Not this. And hadn't she told him too not to meddle in lesser men's wars?</p>
      <p>It had just been him in the beginning, and things had been simple. Black and white. Then Timo had come along, bringing with him a shade of grey, and then a spur of the moment, daring run on the Norwegian border had led them to Lukas, and then Lukas had come back one day with Magnus, and now <em>everything</em> was so much more complicated.</p>
      <p>Now Berwald had brought back the soldier. Now Lukas was in trouble.</p>
      <p>They had been in trouble before, god knew, but they had always come out of it, rising successfully from the ashes and taking off right where they had left off.</p>
      <p>Lukas, over-confident and so mysterious, had been caught before here and there, and he had always wriggled out of it one way or another, but he had never been caught by such an organized and trained system like the Wehrmacht. Magnus had gotten pinched before, in Soviet Finland with a stack of guns. But he had gotten out of that too, with smooth talking and a loose wallet. He and Timo had had close scrapes, but never any real threat of capture.</p>
      <p>Berwald had tried to protect them from such things, laying out careful rules and guidelines. Those rules had kept all four of them alive.</p>
      <p>Now he had broken one of them.</p>
      <p>"What are we gonna do about this?"</p>
      <p>This time, his failure to comply with his own rules might have been a lucky break.</p>
      <p>"Dunno," was all Berwald finally muttered, after a silence, as he paced the halls back and forth, and even Timo so close beside of him could not pull him from his despondency.</p>
      <p>Timo's brow lowered, and he gave a quiet sigh, perhaps disappointed at his lack of cunning ideas.</p>
      <p>He couldn't seem to think.</p>
      <p>The soldier was still out cold. The soldier, who may have been a blessing in disguise. A way out of this predicament.</p>
      <p>"We'll talk about it when he gets back."</p>
      <p><em>He </em>being Magnus, and Timo understood, nodding his head.</p>
      <p>He had made a risky decision by himself once. It was better to speak about making another one in conference. War was no time to be proud. Sorry, gram. Too late now to go back. Push forward. He had gotten too far into this war of others to return.</p>
      <p>The sun was breaking over the mountains.</p>
      <p>Where was Lukas now? Was he still alive? If so, could they get close enough to get him back? He felt slightly ill. Lukas was strange and dreamy and witty and smart, but he wasn't immortal, and he wasn't immune to injury. Maybe it was too late.</p>
      <p>The slam of the door broke him from his dreary thoughts. A familiar voice. Timo's relieved greeting.</p>
      <p>Magnus had returned.</p>
      <p>Berwald rounded on his heel, and when he saw Magnus there, slumped in the doorframe, head bowed in exhaustion and misery, he felt only a twinge of agitation.</p>
      <p>It would have been better...</p>
      <p>"Sit down, come on."</p>
      <p>Timo grabbed Magnus by the hand and tugged him inside, and Berwald shook away the thought, rushing forward with intent as Timo attempted to lead Magnus into his bedroom. He intercepted them and fell against the wall, blocking the door, and asked, "What the hell happened?"</p>
      <p>Magnus looked up, all of that usual combativeness gone as their eyes met, and then quickly looked back down. Timo held his hand firmly, and Berwald's agitation was ever growing.</p>
      <p>"Well? What went wrong? You saw, didn't you? Tell me."</p>
      <p>There was no point in being gentle with Magnus, and if the situations had been reversed, Magnus would have had no kind words for Berwald.</p>
      <p>"Can't ya talk? Tell me."</p>
      <p>Finally, Magnus spoke. His voice was low, and distant.</p>
      <p>"I got there too late. Right after it went off, I was still outside the border. I got past it, and then he came runnin' down the road, and the soldiers were right there behind him. Shootin'."</p>
      <p>Berwald twitched, the horrible sounds of gunshots ringing in his ears.</p>
      <p>The image of quick Lukas dodging, like a fox.</p>
      <p>Magnus swayed, wearily.</p>
      <p>"He was right there. He was right <em>there</em>, and I was wavin' at him! Tellin' him to hurry up, you know? Don't stop. He was right there, and then—" Magnus broke off suddenly, and tossed back his head, laughing in a strange, high-pitched manner, and wheezed, in between chortles, "That! That fuckin' <em>backpack </em>of his! That huge backpack he loves so much! He—he dropped it! The soldiers were <em>right </em>there behind him and he dropped the fuckin' backpack and he stopped. And I could <em>see </em>him starin' at me, and <em>Christ</em>, I knew what was gonna happen. I screamed at him to come on, but he did it anyway, the stupid son of a bitch. He turned around and went back for his fuckin' backpack. That old, ratty thing. I used to ask him why he wouldn't ever just buy a new one. He said...he said he <em>liked </em>that backpack. It was lucky. The bombs went off better after they'd been in it. Some luck it brought this time, huh? They grabbed him. They saw me. I had to go. I had to leave him. The crazy son of a bitch, I had to leave him."</p>
      <p>Magnus finally stopped, and bowed his head with a heavy sigh through his nostrils.</p>
      <p>Berwald only shook his head in something that bordered on disbelief.</p>
      <p>Finally, Timo gave Magnus' shoulder a firm pat, and he said, as he began to pull Magnus around Berwald's inert frame, "It's alright. Come on, you need to rest a little bit. It'll be alright! Rest a bit, and then we'll figure out what we're gonna do."</p>
      <p>The door clicked shut behind him.</p>
      <p>Berwald lingered. Caught in between emotions.</p>
      <p>It should have been Lukas and his goddamn superstitious habits that preoccupied him. It should have been Lukas, caught behind enemy lines and in constant danger, that weighed on his mind.</p>
      <p>Timo and Magnus were together. By themselves. The thought was horrifying, and maybe it made him a <em>horrible </em>leader, but even beyond Lukas his immediate concern was what was going on behind that closed door. He should not have intruded on Timo's privacy, but he did. Taking a silent step backwards and leaning in, pressing his ear against the door, he listened, still and silent.</p>
      <p>Muffled voices.</p>
      <p>Magnus, weary and crestfallen, being comforted by Timo, who was no doubt smiling and trying to be positive. Magnus, who had allowed himself to get close enough to Lukas to call him a best friend. Brother.</p>
      <p>He struggled to hear their words.</p>
      <p>"...my fault."</p>
      <p>"Don't say that. What else could you have done?"</p>
      <p>A stiff silence.</p>
      <p>"<em>Oh</em>," Magnus suddenly moaned, miserably, and in his mind, Berwald could just see him pitching forward and gripping his messy hair in his fingers, on the verge of collapsing into tears.</p>
      <p>A whisper from Timo that he couldn't make out.</p>
      <p>Closing his eyes, Berwald leaned his weight against the door, resting his head against it, and could suddenly picture everything as clear as day in his mind.</p>
      <p>Magnus sat there, clothes disheveled and dirty and eyes weary, bowing his head, and then he muttered to no one, "I shoulda gone with him from the start. Why'd I wait so long?"</p>
      <p>Timo placed a hand on his back, running his warm palm up and down soothingly. "Hey! It's not your fault. No one knew he was leaving. You know how he is. He never tells anyone."</p>
      <p>For a second, Berwald felt a twinge of guilt. <em>He </em>had seen Lukas leave. And even though he knew that Magnus loved Lukas like a brother, he had been too angry and too <em>proud </em>to seek him out and tell him that Lukas was leaving on what could very well have been a dangerous mission. He could have told Magnus, who would have leapt after Lukas without thought, and maybe with Magnus' assistance, Lukas would be safe and sound at home right now.</p>
      <p>"I told him! I told him to stop being so fuckin' stubborn and to just <em>tell </em>me when he left! I told him."</p>
      <p>Berwald felt another twinge of guilt, because, god help him...</p>
      <p>"It's not your fault. Lukas has been caught before, remember? He's always found a way to get out of it."</p>
      <p>God, if he had told Magnus right off, and if Magnus had gone after Lukas, then maybe it would be Lukas sitting here right now, and it would be Magnus in enemy hands. And maybe some part of him would have been satisfied at that outcome.</p>
      <p>A horrible thought, but he couldn't seem to push it away. He would rather it have been Magnus. He would rather it have been him. Not Lukas. It would have been better.</p>
      <p>The door was suddenly pushed open so fast that it nearly knocked him straight in the face, but he leapt backwards and Magnus came stalking out, so lost up in his head and his despair that he didn't even see Berwald standing there.</p>
      <p>Did he hate Magnus so much to wish such a thing upon him?</p>
      <p>As much as rebels didn't have to be friends, there was also no rule that freedom fighters had to be good people. Berwald wasn't really a good person. Honestly, none of them were. People who worked behind the scenes to save others without violence, <em>those</em> were good people. People who fought evil with kindness. They didn't like people being killed, and so killed in return.</p>
      <p>They weren't good people, not a one of them.</p>
      <p>He stood there, still and silent, and watched as Magnus fumbled down to the front door and slipped out into the snow, no doubt to go walk around town to collect himself. Timo came out into the hall, poking his head around the corner, watching Magnus' back through the window until he was gone. A soft, disheartened sigh.</p>
      <p>They shared a long look, and Berwald could see how tired Timo was.</p>
      <p>Finally, Timo sent him a weak smile, chirping weakly, "Well! Guess I'll go see if he's awake," and then quickly sidestepped him, and Berwald listened to his soft steps down the hall, and then the click of the door that hid the sleeping danger.</p>
      <p>He was alone again.</p>
      <p>Taking a breath and bracing his shoulders, Berwald made to go after Magnus, if only to wrench him back and tell him that he could mope later all he wanted, but right now they needed to sit down and <em>talk </em>about this whole mess.</p>
      <p>When he pushed open the door, Magnus had already disappeared down the long drive, wandering out into the streets below. Berwald followed, and maybe some part of him followed only because he hoped to engage in a confrontation with Magnus, because decking him one in the face would be a great way to take some of this terrible stress off of his shoulders.</p>
      <p>He made it down the hill, where the long dirt road began to wind back around the forests and turned into cobbled streets. The little town loomed in the distance in the morning sun. Magnus' walking form, far ahead of him.</p>
      <p>He raised his foot to follow.</p>
      <p>And quickly stopped still.</p>
      <p>Screaming.</p>
      <p>Screaming that echoed through the house and came all the way down to the edge of the forest. Berwald looked up, horrified, and when he lifted his boots and bounded through the snow like a hare up the hill, the adrenaline was almost too much to bear. The closer he got to the house, the more he realized. It wasn't screaming. It was <em>shrieking</em>. Hair-raising and damn near petrifying, and when he took a great jump forward and wrenched open the front door, he could hear the voice ever closer, and knew.</p>
      <p>The German was awake. And he was <em>not </em>happy.</p>
      <p>Reaching the room with a racing heart, Berwald grabbed the handle, and leapt in without thought.</p>
      <hr/>
      <p>Darkness.</p>
      <p>Whooshing in his ears. A dull, throbbing ache in his head. Pain all over. He felt like he had wound up on the wrong end of a grenade. A fog of numbness rolling in and out of his mind. He felt lethargic. Lolling, lolling, lolling...</p>
      <p>Strange thoughts through a veil of darkness. Stars dancing before his eyes. Dazedly, he swore he felt a rush of searing heat. Warmth. No; no, maybe it was cold.</p>
      <p>...where <em>was </em>he?</p>
      <p>Christ almighty, what the hell had he done to himself?</p>
      <p>Waves of nausea. A pang of fire in his arm.</p>
      <p>The darkness began to dim. A slow receding of night into a bright light. The pain in his head went from a dull ache to a burning, shooting light burned down into a red haze. He came back down to earth.</p>
      <p>And wished he hadn't.</p>
      <p>Oh god, <em>never </em>had he hurt like this. Exhaling in a vain attempt to shake the sleep and numbness away, he tried to open his eyes. He couldn't, and moving hurt too damn much, so he contented himself with leaning his head back into the pillow beneath him, and trying to gather his thoughts.</p>
      <p>Now. Think. Where was he? No, no, no. Too soon. Basics.</p>
      <p><em>Who </em>was he?</p>
      <p>Ludwig. Okay. That was a good sign.</p>
      <p>What year was it?</p>
      <p>'40. Alright.</p>
      <p>Now. Where was the last place he remembered being?</p>
      <p>With Gilbert. Saying goodbye. The soldiers laughing and joking and acting normal all around him. A horrible secret.</p>
      <p>What else?</p>
      <p>His head was splitting open.</p>
      <p>Smoke.</p>
      <p>He remembered the train. The feel of the wind on his face. Clouds and fields. The unspeakable idea that had planted itself in his head. He remembered clinging tightly to the railing at the back, watching the high grass pass by, and waiting. Waiting. And he remembered that exhilarating surge of adrenaline when he had passed the Swedish border, and the horrible mixture of excitement and guilt as he had waited for nightfall. Countless stars. Soft ground. A high moon.</p>
      <p>What else?</p>
      <p>...what else?</p>
      <p>A flash of gold that he had dismissed as tall grass. Looking over either shoulder, to make sure that no one was <em>watching</em>. Taking a deep breath. Gathering his courage. And then suddenly another bright flash. Moonlight glinting from a pair of binoculars.</p>
      <p>No.</p>
      <p>He furrowed his brow as he struggled to recall the memory.</p>
      <p>No, it hadn't been binoculars. Not binoculars. Glasses. Moonlight reflecting someone's glasses, and he had turned his head, and there had been someone crouching down in the snowy field. A man, pale in every sense of the word, resting a hand upon the ground to steady himself, and his glasses had been burning white for the moon, breaking through the night like a horrible beacon of accusation. Seeing him. <em>Watching </em>him. An icy dread. A sudden movement. A terrible heat.</p>
      <p>And that was it.</p>
      <p>That was all he could remember. The rest was just dark.</p>
      <p>He tried to stick the pieces of the fragmented puzzle together. He was in a bed; he could feel that much at least, through his aching body. So he was no longer aboard the train. Where was he?</p>
      <p>He had been on the verge of jumping and rolling to freedom. But someone had been there, where they should not have been, and he had been spotted, and things had taken a wrong turn. As for the rest, he could not say. Had he lost his balance in fear and fallen and knocked himself unconscious? Maybe. It was possible. Embarrassing, but possible. The man in the field had startled him. Somehow or another, he and the train had parted ways. Now he was in the worst pain of his life, inert in some bed, and god only knew where he was and who he was with.</p>
      <p>Ludwig clamped his jaw, and tried to push himself up.</p>
      <p>He stopped short. He couldn't move his arms. Another horrible rush of fear. Forgetting about the terrible agony in his head in a daze of alarm, he wrenched his eyes open in an effort to find out why his arms couldn't raise up and oh god, if he looked over and saw that something was missing he would pass out, what if the fuckin' train had rolled over his arms when he had fallen, oh <em>god</em>—!</p>
      <p>But when the black cleared from his vision, he felt a relief he had never known. His arms were there, very much intact.</p>
      <p>The fog in his head had cleared a bit with the fear, and when his blurry vision finally came back into focus, he squinted his eyes and tried to raise his arm. He couldn't, and it didn't take him long to realize that his wrists were tied somehow or another to the edge of the bed.</p>
      <p>His heartbeat sped up, worse than ever, and then he heard a voice. Close by. A whisper in a language he didn't understand.</p>
      <p>He froze up. Cold.</p>
      <p>And then he panicked.</p>
      <p>Pulling himself up at the waist so fast that he saw stars and was threatened by dizziness, he was caught in a moment of blindness by the glaring sun streaming in through the windows, and was forced to close his eyes.</p>
      <p>He felt vulnerable, and threatened.</p>
      <p>A voice, ever closer, said, gently, "Hey! It's alright! Calm down, you're alright."</p>
      <p>Blinded by the sun and confused and scared, Ludwig tried to gather his bearings. His feet were cold. His boots were gone. He couldn't move. He was tied down. Helpless. He began to struggle, wrenching his wrists as hard as he could, despite the burning that seared him every time he yanked. Oh, he had to get <em>out</em>. Trapped.</p>
      <p>"It's alright! Stop!"</p>
      <p>Who was there? What where they going to do with him? Wait, this wasn't right; he had been in Sweden. Neutral. A safe-haven. This wasn't right.</p>
      <p>The pain was overwhelming. Finally, he managed to open his eyes.</p>
      <p>White.</p>
      <p>"Hey, please calm down! Here, look at me. Over here, it's alright."</p>
      <p>The sun was white. Colors seeped in. Pastel. Bright, pale shades.</p>
      <p>A bedroom.</p>
      <p>The painfully white sun lit the room up, leaving no place for shadows. The walls and floors were wooden planks; white oak, polished and well-tended. The curtains were white, lit up like fire by the sun. Sparse pieces of furniture here and there; a well-weathered end-table with a porcelain lamp upon it, a large chair, its pale blue cushion the only real sign of color in the room.</p>
      <p>"Over here. It's okay! Nothing's gonna happen, it's alright."</p>
      <p>The voice was soft. Gentle. Unknown. Unfamiliar.</p>
      <p>Feeling the hairs on his neck standing up in alarm, Ludwig finally turned his head to the side, and was instantly eye to eye with a man, who stood there beside the bed, a safe distance back, his form blocking out some of the sun's merciless rays.</p>
      <p>"Yeah, there you go! Hey, you feeling alright? How's your head? Not gonna die here on me, are you?"</p>
      <p>Friendly words, to be sure, but when Ludwig finally came out of his stupor and was able to take the stranger in, he realized that this man was no friend.</p>
      <p>He wasn't particularly tall but was rather broad and stocky, light-haired and pale, staring at Ludwig quite intently, and even though his eyes were soft and dewy, the big brown type that girls fell head over heels for, the gun gleaming in his beltline gave away immediately his danger. Big hands.</p>
      <p>No friend.</p>
      <p>"It's alright."</p>
      <p>Ludwig took in his words blearily, barely comprehending as the panic continued to build in his chest.</p>
      <p>Who was this man? A strange accent that he couldn't pin down. The man took a step forward. The slowly mounting panic was becoming dread. Sitting up at the waist, arms pinned down at either side and unable to flee, Ludwig stared in frozen alarm at the man next to him, absently twisting his wrists into the rope that bound them.</p>
      <p>Something warm began to run down his arm.</p>
      <p>The man's brow lowered, and he took yet another step forward, muttering lowly, "Oh, look, you tore your stitches."</p>
      <p>Dumbly, Ludwig looked down, and the sleeve of his already mottled uniform was becoming damp with blood. A great crimson stain was spreading across the fabric, but that was of little concern. The man came ever closer, as Ludwig raised his eyes back up.</p>
      <p>"It's alright. Keep <em>calm</em>, alright?"</p>
      <p>The man raised his hands up before him non-threateningly, and his crooning voice was like that of a man trying to soothe a snarling dog. Didn't work. Ludwig fell back. The dread was mounting. He could barely breathe. His heart was racing so quickly that he was dizzy.</p>
      <p>No uniform. The man wasn't wearing a uniform. Not a soldier. Who was he?</p>
      <p>A sudden hand, light and warm, upon his shoulder. Barely a touch. Just a brush.</p>
      <p>Too much.</p>
      <p>The dread exploded into horror, and Ludwig slipped into full-blown panic. He couldn't keep himself from giving in to the anxiety, kicking out blindly and thrashing his arms as hard against the ropes as he could, and when he finally found his voice, he realized that he was shrieking, in a loud, high-pitched, desperate tone that was unfamiliar even to himself.</p>
      <p>So <em>scared</em>.</p>
      <p>"<em>Get away from me</em>! Don't touch me? Where am I? Why'd you bring me here? Who—who are you? Where am I? Tell me!"</p>
      <p>He tried to swing his legs over the bed, but his tied wrists prevented him from getting anything above his knees over the edge. Still, he flailed, and screeched. The man jumped back at the sound of his voice, his hand flying down to his gun. He did not draw it, but Ludwig's desperation intensified all the same. Just wanted to get away.</p>
      <p>"Answer me! Who are you? Goddammit, let me <em>go</em>! You can't keep me here! Let me go! Are you hearing me or what, you son of a bitch? Why are you just standing there? Untie me! You can't hold me here!"</p>
      <p>The man only stood there, staring at him with wide eyes, and seemed suddenly unable to speak. Startled. Ludwig continued to shriek at him, if only to keep himself from slipping into a panic attack or bursting into tears of frustration.</p>
      <p>And besides, like that haughty, well-bred Austrian commander had taught him in boot camp : 'Can't reason with 'em? Just scream at 'em. The German language, for all its inconsistencies and perplexities, has always served us well in scaring the ever-loving shit out of our enemies with nothing more than a raised voice. Especially the Yanks.'</p>
      <p>Or so he had said.</p>
      <p>God love sharp-tongued Edelstein, Ludwig had taken that advice to heart, and even if this man before him wasn't a Yank, the same principles still applied. Gilbert, for his part, had been practice for screaming, and had taught Ludwig every obscenity known to mankind. Maybe scaring this stranger enough would get him some goddamn answers.</p>
      <p>Didn't really work, because he was pretty sure the man had actually rolled his eyes at some point, hand ever on his gun.</p>
      <p>Finally, he spoke again, his soft voice all but drowned out under Ludwig's screaming, as he said, irritably, "Calm down. No good's gonna come of you making a scene!"</p>
      <p>A scene? He had every right to make a scene. Oh, <em>why </em>wouldn't he just tell him what was going on?</p>
      <p>His head hurt so <em>bad</em>.</p>
      <p>"Let me go right now! Why won't you tell me where I am?"</p>
      <p>A tentative look.</p>
      <p>"Calm down, and I promise I'll tell you what's going on, alright? But you have to calm down! You're gonna hurt yourself!"</p>
      <p>His frustration was too great. In a rage, he lashed out furiously in a futile attempt to give the bastard a firm kick, thrashing his legs so hard that the frame of the bed shook against the wooden floor. Moving hurt, but sitting still was not an option.</p>
      <p>The man fell back at his kicking, sighed a little, and shook his head.</p>
      <p>Oh <em>god</em>, he was going to go crazy if he didn't get <em>out </em>of here—</p>
      <p>"Stop it!"</p>
      <p>And then the door burst open and another man skidded in, and Ludwig fell still and silent in a moment of surprise when, in a exceedingly swift movement, there was suddenly a gun pressed into his forehead.</p>
      <p>A fog of shock.</p>
      <p>He gazed up at the new man that stood next to him, and was struck with an instant familiarity. Glasses. Those were the glasses. And this was the man that he had seen out there in those cold fields, kneeling down in the snow and high grass and bathed in moonlight.</p>
      <p>Silence. In a second of clarity, his mind took in the newcomer.</p>
      <p>Tall, <em>very </em>tall, broad shoulders tense and firm, blond and blue-eyed, dressed neatly and hair combed smooth, bangs hanging into his eyes, glasses meticulously cleaned, he was possibly the most imposing human being that Ludwig had ever laid eyes upon, even after spending his entire life growing up around Gilbert's SA and SS attack-dog friends. His eyes were impassive. Unreadable. A somewhat crooked nose. A rather gruff-looking man. There was no perceivable emotion upon his face. Blank.</p>
      <p>Whereas the other man had spoken gently and tried to soothe him, this man gave no effort to appear amicable. Ludwig had a feeling that, with this man, screaming would get him nowhere. Ludwig opened his mouth, and lost his voice. The gun was cold against his skin.</p>
      <p>And then, reassured perhaps under this frightening man's presence, the other one stepped forward, and took a deep breath.</p>
      <p>"Please don't struggle. Listen. Just stay calm, alright? I can understand that this must be, ah, frustrating for you—"</p>
      <p>Well, that was an understatement.</p>
      <p>Ludwig sent him a scorching glare, and he quickly added, "Right. Well, let's just get the basics settled, alright? Do you remember anything?"</p>
      <p>Irritated, Ludwig turned his eyes back up the man that held the gun against him, and said, pointedly, "Yeah. I remember <em>you</em>. By the train."</p>
      <p>The man above him didn't even flinch. Unblinking and unmoving. The smaller shifted his weight anxiously, as Ludwig met the imposing stare as best he could.</p>
      <p>"Listen, this whole thing just kind of got out of hand, alright? We couldn't leave you there. I mean, let's just say that your train was unable to reach its, er, final destination. You just had some bad luck, alright? It's nothing personal. We weren't aiming to take any prisoners, you know."</p>
      <p>Without taking his gaze from the big blond above, he asked, stiffly, "I'm in Sweden?"</p>
      <p>"You are."</p>
      <p>The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together. The searing heat, the darkness. Sabotage. He had unknowingly witnessed a sabotage in progress. An attack on unarmed soldiers. The breaking of the Geneva and Hague conventions. And that was why he sat here, tied to this bed. He was a security threat to these men. The dread that he had lost to his anger and irritation was steadily creeping back. Were they going to shoot him now, then, to protect themselves?</p>
      <p>Likely.</p>
      <p>He had made it to Sweden. Christ, so close! Why hadn't he jumped sooner?</p>
      <p>Even though his stomach was twisting with nausea, Ludwig tried to appear as brave as possible, and pressed forward, pushing the gun back with his head as far as he could.</p>
      <p>The man above furrowed an agitated brow.</p>
      <p>The shorter continued, carefully, "We just need to work this out, alright? We have to figure something out."</p>
      <p>Figure something out? A dangerously complicated scenario : he had witnessed Swedish rebels committing a war crime in a neutral country. Harshly punished. He was an Axis soldier that had been on the very verge of defecting. Even more harshly punished. Both of them had things to hide. Neither could effectively tilt their hand.</p>
      <p>He couldn't just say, 'Well, you can just let me go because I was planning on staying here anyway, so go blow up whatever you want and I'll go build a house in the snow.'</p>
      <p>As if they'd believe him.</p>
      <p>Finally, after a moment of thick silence, the gun was removed from his forehead.</p>
      <p>The pressure gone, Ludwig gave up the image of calm, and when the imposing man crossed his arms and stared down at him impassively, he wrenched his wrists as hard as he could in the rope and cried, loudly and angrily, "What are you thinking, huh? You can't keep me here! You have to let me go! Sweden hasn't broken neutrality—you can't keep prisoners of war here! Let me go!"</p>
      <p>But the man just stood there, eyes unreadable behind his glasses, and it was a great, overwhelming need to get the hell <em>out </em>of there that made Ludwig thrash his legs childishly and sputter the foulest curses that Gilbert had ever taught him. The rope began to cut into his wrists for his struggling. He could feel warmth running down his fingers.</p>
      <p>Still, the unshakeable blond oaf just stood there, brow low and looking extremely severe. Agitated.</p>
      <p>"Untie me! You can't keep me here! This—this is a violation of all the pacts! You can't <em>keep </em>me here!"</p>
      <p>He might have been whining by that point.</p>
      <p>His struggling intensified.</p>
      <p>The imposing man finally spoke up for the first time, and his deep voice came out heavy and loud and maybe even somewhat hassled as he shouted, "Stop it!" in very thick, stiff German, and Ludwig did so, if only because the burn of the rope cutting into him was becoming too painful. "Don't move. I'll shoot ya."</p>
      <p>It took a moment to comprehend the words. A very thick accent, far more prominent that the other's had been. Thoroughly Swedish.</p>
      <p>Ludwig sent him a foul look, but he obeyed the command nonetheless. He couldn't break the damn ropes anyhow. Not like this. He fell still, and the tall Swede stared down at him with a stern, yet thoughtful look. A glance between his two captors, and then the taller turned his head, and observed the blood dripping slowly onto the floor from Ludwig's cut wrists.</p>
      <p>A silence.</p>
      <p>The gentler of the two stepped forward again, and took up spouting his words of comfort.</p>
      <p>"Hey, listen, you need to rest for now. We won't hurt you. We just need to think about this, alright? If we all talk, I'm sure we can reach a conclusion."</p>
      <p>How could this be worked out? They would not trust him to leave and keep his mouth shut. How could they know that he had never had any intentions of going to Norway?</p>
      <p>"Why don't you just let me go?" Ludwig interrupted, lowly and wearily. "Like anyone would ever pick you two out of all the others anyway. Blindfold me and just drop me off somewhere, why don't you?"</p>
      <p>No answer. He assumed as much.</p>
      <p>The big Swede was staring with a tilted head at the slowly dripping blood, silently. A sigh from the smaller.</p>
      <p>"Hey. Try not to worry, alright? It'll work out in the end."</p>
      <p>He intended to grumble a snappy reply, but a sudden movement made him jump as the silent man suddenly came forward. He tensed in alarm, but the Swede only fell to one knee before the side of the bed, as the smaller hovered over to the left, gun aimed steady, and Ludwig could only sit still as the blond at his side began to undo the knot in the rope around his wrist.</p>
      <p>He felt a twinge of hope.</p>
      <p>Pointless hope, really, because all they did were tie his wrists together in front of him.</p>
      <p>...should've punched him in the face first. At least that would have been satisfying.</p>
      <p>The Swede pulled himself to his feet, glowering at Ludwig yet, and then, maybe as an afterthought, he grabbed up the other half of the rope and quickly tied Ludwig's ankle to the end of the bed. Feeling claustrophobic and frustrated and unspeakably helpless, Ludwig could only spit at the Swede a few quick curses, and then bow his head in defeat, grumbling under his breath.</p>
      <p>The blond was unfazed at his hisses. Felt more like a kitten than a lion in that moment.</p>
      <p>"Sit still. We're gon' talk. Be back soon."</p>
      <p>"Sure," Ludwig griped, foully.</p>
      <p>Burning holes into the blanket with his eyes, he heard the man before him utter a deep, firm, "Keep still now," and then there were heavy steps upon the floor, followed by light ones.</p>
      <p>The shutting of the door. He was alone.</p>
      <p>Exhausted, Ludwig fell back onto the bed, his bound wrists resting on his stomach, and heaved a great sigh. His predicament looked dire. Uncertain. Rolling restlessly onto his side, he closed his eyes and tried to keep a certain measure of hope mixed into his pessimism. After all, if they had intentions of shooting him, surely they would have done it already?</p>
      <p>Maybe they would just let him go.</p>
      <p>Agitated and sick to his stomach, he tossed this way and that, and yet no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't sleep. And who could, with their life hanging in the balance of a few dissatisfied freedom fighters? Men who leapt into war even though they didn't have to.</p>
      <p>He drifted in and out of space, and was glad that Gilbert could not see him like this. He would have been ashamed, no doubt.</p>
      <p>Time passed slowly and steadily.</p>
      <p>He glanced up at the clock on occasion, and was surprised that it was still morning yet. Time was dragging. His sore body was aching. The blood from his arm had seeped into the blanket. A pang of hunger mixed with the nausea. How long had he been here, helpless and hurt in this bed?</p>
      <p>Time passed, and still no one had come back. He couldn't even get up to stretch his sore legs.</p>
      <p>Time ticked away. Minutes into hours. They were <em>still </em>talking? The sun was high above. The white light of morning had turned golden.</p>
      <p>He looked at the clock. Noon already? When would they come back?</p>
      <p>How pathetic. How had he had such bad luck?</p>
      <p>Half past noon, and then finally, the door clicked. Ludwig jumped upright in anticipation. A head poked in. The less frightening one.</p>
      <p>A gentle voice.</p>
      <p>"Good news for you!" came the words through the haze, and he felt a prick of relief.</p>
      <p>It quickly fled.</p>
      <p>"One of ours got caught by the Wehrmacht on the other side. If we're careful, we can get you close enough to the border so we can make an exchange. See? I told you everything would turn out alright! Don't worry, you'll be safe in Norway with your comrades by the end of the day."</p>
      <p>A quick smile, and the head was gone as quickly as it had poked in. The door shut, leaving Ludwig to sit there in a dull, icy daze.</p>
      <p>By the end of the day. In Norway.</p>
      <p>Stunning numbness. The very thing he had striven so hard to avoid. The thought was <em>devastating</em>. So long he had spent to gather the courage and the bravery needed to do the unthinkable, to utter that awful word of <em>defection</em>, and yet, for all the mental torment, he was back in the same place.</p>
      <p>Couldn't go to Norway.</p>
      <p>Being ushered through that last border, where they would pat him on the back and admire his bravery and probably slap a medal on his chest, and then they'd stick a rifle in his hands and shove him on his way down the streets, and he would walk back and forth through a little Norwegian village, frightening the elders to the point of tears and threatening hapless couples who disobeyed curfew and even the damn <em>dogs </em>would fear him.</p>
      <p>He couldn't. He wouldn't.</p>
      <p>Wouldn't.</p>
      <p>Looking around the room in a terrible desperation, he sought a way out. His eyes fell on the opposite end of the room, and it was with a lunge that he threw himself over the end of the bed and onto the floor, reaching out for the end-table that held the lamp. He must have looked <em>ridiculous</em>, splayed out on his stomach on the wooden floor, reaching out as far as he could with his bound hands, one leg high up in the air as his ankle remained firmly tethered to the end-post, flailing about like a landed fish.</p>
      <p>Appearances were hardly important.</p>
      <p>Swinging his weight forward as far as he could, ignoring the painful strain on his ankle, he clenched his fists together and lashed out, knocking the end-table as hard as he could for his ill position.</p>
      <p>The lamp tottered back and forth tantalizingly, and then fell still.</p>
      <p>With a grunt and a curse he flung himself out again, and after a few misses, he struck the table again, effectively busting his knuckles on the unyielding wood, and watched as the lamp swayed back and forth. It fell with a dull thunk onto the arm of the chair, and then tumbled to the floor. The well-built porcelain had miraculously held fast, and it had not shattered. Groping out, he managed to roll the lamp towards him, and scooted backwards towards the bed.</p>
      <p>Looking around to make sure that no one had heard the clatter, he waited for a still second, and when there were no running footsteps, he pulled the lamp against his chest and lifted it up within his bound arms. Twisting around, he maneuvered the lamp and struck it against the bedpost as hard as he could.</p>
      <p>It cracked, and with another strike, shattered.</p>
      <p>He saved his sigh of relief for later, and took up a large shard of the lamp, grasping it in his clumsy, restricted hands and lifting himself up at the waist, sawing as quickly as he could through the rope that held his foot in place.</p>
      <p>As he ran the sharp end back and forth against the coarse, tough strands, the shard cutting his palms, he could not help but be a bit enthralled with the adrenaline. Hell, for all the improvised survival shit he was doing now, he may as well have been going to France with Gilbert instead of quiet Norway. Vacation? Ha! Yeah, right. Fuckin' disaster <em>this </em>had turned out to be. A vacation from hell.</p>
      <p>The blood dripping from his palms spattered the hem of his shirt, and then finally, the rope snapped free. Feeling triumphant and hopeful, he turned his attention to the rope on his wrists. Escape would have been an impossible feat if that frightening oaf of a man hadn't retied his binds. He would use the Swede's act of kindness against him. Gilbert had taught him <em>that </em>much, at least.</p>
      <p>He would not go back.</p>
      <p>"Come on, you son of a bitch," he muttered irritably to himself, as he sat cross-legged on the floor, holding the shard of porcelain within his bare feet, rubbing the rope against the edge of it as fast as he could.</p>
      <p>The shard dug into the soles of his feet and broke the skin, but he did not stop, even as the rope burned the skin on his wrists and peeled away the already worn flesh. Focused and determined, he kept at it until finally the last strands of stubborn rope broke, and he fell back in relief with a triumphant snarl, pulling the bonds off and tossing them aside, rubbing his tender wrists irritably.</p>
      <p>It hurt like hell, and the gashes on his feet were no less painful, but he stumbled across the room nonetheless. His boots had been taken from him; he didn't see them in the room, and he didn't dare try to find them and risk getting caught. He would go on without them. Rushing to the window, leaving a trail of blood behind him, he gripped the windowpane in his hands and pulled himself quickly through, sparing no second glance behind.</p>
      <p>He knew where he wanted to be, and it wasn't back in Norway with a rifle. Sad for them. Let them go save their friend by themselves.</p>
      <p>As soon as he hit the snow-covered ground, he rolled upright and staggered down the hill, and he found that it was hard for him to move quickly, bruised and battered and his feet compromised. He didn't stop, and even when he stumbled forward and rolled through the snow, he pulled himself right back up to his feet and carried on, looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one had seen him.</p>
      <p>The hill finally flattened, and he saw the snow-covered road in the distance, surrounded by forests. The smell of pine. He bolted for the road, as fast his numb feet would allow, and when he rounded a sharp bend, he could see the town before him. Scattered houses, pretty little buildings. Cobbled streets and a tall, gleaming clock tower above a church. Quiet and snowy and absolutely everything he had ever imagined when he had thought of Sweden.</p>
      <p>He tried to keep a low profile, slinking through the streets as quickly and quietly as possible. Thank god it was a small place, for he was not exactly inconspicuous, covered in blood and dirt and without shoes, leaving bloody footprints in the white snow as he went, cut everywhere and wearing a Wehrmacht uniform. He looked like he had just come from the battlefield. That wouldn't go over well.</p>
      <p>Creeping into the alley between two buildings, he lingered in the dark when he saw someone approaching, and waited for them to pass, hidden in shadows.</p>
      <p>All he had to do was make it out of the central part and follow the road to wherever it would lead. Jacking a car on the way would be preferable.</p>
      <p>The passersby came and went, and he came back out, continuing his trek.</p>
      <p>The town was still and silent. The mountains stood huge and white off to the side. Plumes of smoke wafted up in the clear air here and there, the chimneys from houses and cabins tucked away in the pines. It was a cute little place, that was for sure, pretty and quiet. If the jerks in the house on the hill hadn't fucked everything up, maybe he could have wound up in this little place on his own. He wouldn't have minded living here for a while. Acting normal.</p>
      <p>Oh well. There were more towns to be found.</p>
      <p>The last of the buildings was approaching, and then there was just road.</p>
      <p>He was close.</p>
      <p>A few more seconds of careful observation of his surroundings. He became restless, and with it, maybe careless. There were a few more structures to pass, little stores, but his anxiousness to clear them prevented him from going slowly past and making sure that no one was watching him.</p>
      <p>The start of the long road was close. He threw caution to the wind.</p>
      <p>He ran.</p>
      <p>Too soon. He made it one great lunge forward, and then there was a shadow next to his own and he was going in reverse, yanked back by a great pressure upon his throat as a sudden hand entangled itself in his collar, and then there was a firm warmth against his back, and then a sharp, shooting pain on the side of his head.</p>
      <p>Then there was only darkness.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Wayfaring Stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 5</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Wayfaring Stranger</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Unlucky.</p>
  <p>That was what he was. He attracted trouble like a goddamn magnet. Maybe he had been born under a bad star. Nothing ever seemed to work out exactly like he wanted it to. Nothing ever happened the way it was supposed to. Nothing ever came easy. Not even something as straight-forward as a conversation.</p>
  <p>It should have been simple, to sit there at the kitchen table with Timo, hanging wearily over cups of coffee to soothe their frazzled nerves as they waited for Magnus to come marching back up to the house. It should have been simple to come up with a game plan. To figure out how they were going to go about the entire thing. How they would skirt danger and approach the lion's den.</p>
  <p>It should have been simple.</p>
  <p>It never was.</p>
  <p>Because they just sat there at the table and time had passed and passed and passed, the morning sun ever rising, and still Magnus had not returned, and finally the coffee was cold. Timo stared blankly out the window as Berwald glowered silently at the table, and time kept passing. Magnus never came.</p>
  <p>But as soon as Berwald impatiently opened his mouth and said, 'Alright, here's what we're gonna do,' Timo broke his gaze from the window and met his eyes, shooting down his attempt with a clipped, 'We should wait.'</p>
  <p>Wait for what? For Magnus to just sit there and be all but useless? Berwald wanted to say as much, but only furrowed his brow and absently stirred his cold coffee.</p>
  <p>Conversation was lacking. Nearly noon. No Magnus.</p>
  <p>Patience gone and feeling restless, he took charge of the situation, and this time he did not let Timo's passive-aggressiveness deter him, and stated, firmly, 'We're gonna trade. No matter what we gotta do. Even if we gotta make a run for it t'wards the end.'</p>
  <p>Timo had shifted his weight in one of those moment of apprehension, but maybe his tone had been commanding enough, for instead of a plea for patience, Timo rested his chin in his palm.</p>
  <p>'What if we're too late for Lukas?' came the dreary inquiry. 'What do we do with <em>him</em>?'</p>
  <p>An inclined head towards the hall made it obvious who '<em>he</em>' was, and Berwald fell silent.</p>
  <p>'We'll improvise,' was his perhaps lame response, and when Timo sent him a strange look that was almost a mix of disbelief and maybe disappointment, he felt a twinge of insecurity.</p>
  <p>Maybe Timo waited for Magnus because Berwald was proving to be a poor leader.</p>
  <p>The thought was absolutely mortifying.</p>
  <p>It was that sudden rush of insecurity that had made him brace his shoulders and lift his chin and say, loudly and stiffly, 'Tell him we're gonna take him back to his friends so he'll calm down. Get ready. Pack up what you need. We'll leave when we're all together.'</p>
  <p>To his surprise, Timo stood up and did exactly as he was told.</p>
  <p>Berwald had sucked in a great breath to steady himself, and set about gathering his own items. Not much. Gun. First-aid. Silencer. A little food. Ammunition. A bottle of vodka, should it become necessary to calm the nerves of either Lukas or the German. Assuming that Lukas, of course, actually <em>had </em>nerves in the first place. Might shove a glass or two down the soldier's throat, though.</p>
  <p>All that screamin'.</p>
  <p>A click of the door told him that Timo had delivered the news to the soldier. Maybe now he'd sit still and be quiet and just cooperate. Cooperation would make everything so much safer.</p>
  <p>The sun rose higher. The coffee sat forgotten on the table. And now it was already after noon, the sun was glaring, and yet still no Magnus.</p>
  <p>It occurred to him that Magnus was probably sitting out on the sidewalk somewhere, almost halfway through his own bottle of vodka, and he was probably huddling in his coat, red-faced and wallowing in a puddle of self-pity and moaning Lukas' name. Drinking himself to death. Magnus' shot liver was not his immediate concern however, and Berwald, pacing the kitchen, was feeling a bit confident. Perhaps foolishly so, but there it was.</p>
  <p>This might all work out. Others had done it. Why couldn't they?</p>
  <p>Granted, it had been the Finns he had seen, holding captured Soviet soldiers tantalizingly before the Red Army and offering their safety in exchange for a rebel that had found himself on the wrong end. Maybe the Soviets were different than the Germans, but the rules were all the same; give me mine and I'll give you yours.</p>
  <p>Clunking. Dull thuds. Timo messing around up above, no doubt.</p>
  <p>Footsteps on the stairs.</p>
  <p>He was a leader. He had to act the role, even if sometimes he didn't really <em>feel </em>like it.</p>
  <p>Soft steps on the tile behind alerted him to Timo's presence, and from the great coat and snow boots, it was obvious that Timo was ready to set out.</p>
  <p>Berwald's confidence and courage were hanging by a thread.</p>
  <p>"Well!" Timo suddenly said, "I guess I'll go check on our guest, and then I'll see if I can scrounge up Magnus from the streets."</p>
  <p>He nodded, and turned his back, turning his eyes to the window as Timo retreated down the hall.</p>
  <p>Scrounge up Magnus. Better Timo do it. He could scrounge Magnus up just as well, but he might end up tossing him into a few lampposts on the way back first. Maybe the side of a building here and there. Or down a hill or two.</p>
  <p>Shifting his weight this way and that, it struck him, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it had been almost eerily quiet. No more screaming. The German had calmed down. That was good news. His persistent struggling and thrashing and screeching had died down. Probably asleep.</p>
  <p>...shouldn't sleep with a concussion. Might not wake up.</p>
  <p>As he stood there, staring out at the forest below blankly and chewing his bottom lip, the silence was suddenly shattered in a shrill moment of alarming déjà vu.</p>
  <p>A high-pitched cry.</p>
  <p>"Son of a <em>bitch</em>!"</p>
  <p>A horrible flood of adrenaline, and he wrenched his neck back so fast that it nearly snapped, and good god almighty, how many more times would he be caught off guard by someone screaming?</p>
  <p>He bolted. Far too dizzy to even contemplate the possibilities. Flying down the hall, he burst through the door, slamming it so hard with his shoulder that the hinges creaked threateningly.</p>
  <p>Then there was silence.</p>
  <p>When Berwald entered the room, all but skidding to a halt, his blurry mind only had a second to take in the scene : blood here and there, and Timo stood at the window, gripping the windowsill and staring outside with wide eyes. The room was cold. The pieces were coming together, but before his slow body could react, Timo reached out and punched the wall, screeching a particularly shocking curse in Finnish, and then with one swift moment leapt straight out of the window.</p>
  <p>Berwald stood frozen.</p>
  <p>...the hell?</p>
  <p>Shaking his head to clear it, he looked around. And in a second, his dazed mind came roaring back to life, and he observed and understood the evidence around him. Strands of frazzled rope. Shards of a broken lamp on the floor. Blood stains. Bloody footprints leading to the window. Open window. Air flowing in. Empty bed.</p>
  <p>A dawning realization. The soldier had escaped.</p>
  <p>A flood of horror. The soldier was <em>gone</em>.</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>Leaving only blood and a very dead Lukas behind him.</p>
  <p>A cry of, "Shit!" was all he managed, before he turned and bolted out, choosing to go out the door and focus on the front of the house as Timo scuttled down the hill beneath the window at the side.</p>
  <p>Shit. Shoulda just let the damn son of a bitch drag the rope right through his wrists. He should have known better.</p>
  <p>Ripping open the front door and throwing himself into the chilly air, coatless and wearing short, thin boots that were meant for the indoors, he flew down the stairs and into the icy drive, skidding here and there and slipping, and when he saw Timo far down ahead at the bend in the road, he took off as soon as his feet hit snow.</p>
  <p>He had forgotten, in all honesty, what it felt like to run like this. Really run. He would be the first to admit that he was slow-natured, taking his time for most things and moving quickly only when absolutely necessary. Exhilarating, actually. Cold air stinging his face, chest tight and arms flying out to keep his balance steady, against the wind and lungs burning, sprinting so fast through the snow that half of it flew up behind him like a roaring blizzard, and with every other stride he leapt forward so broadly that both of his feet found themselves in the air at the same time.</p>
  <p>If the fuckin' kid had gotten away, no one would ever trust him again.</p>
  <p>Ignoring the snow melting inside of his boots and his thin shirt stiffening with cold, he bounded towards the snow-covered road, attempting to catch Timo, who was proving to be much faster, and who seemed to be following a very straight path. As if he knew where the German was going. Had he caught sight of him? The rush of possible danger made him sprint even harder, and when he came down to the bend in the road, surrounded on both sides by thick forests, he could suddenly see what Timo had been following the entire time.</p>
  <p>Red on white. Drops and smudges of crimson tainting the snow. The trail of blood was easy to see. He should be grateful for that, at least. The soldier was just leading them right to him.</p>
  <p>He couldn't have gotten far, not in his state.</p>
  <p>Berwald could only run behind Timo and pray that they caught the troublesome Wehrmacht and had him back in place before Magnus ever found out. Berwald would never hear the end of it.</p>
  <p>Rounding the turn into the street, he could see beyond the tall tress the little houses that gleamed out, and the tiny town visible in the distance. Surely the soldier had had the sense to stay out of sight! If anyone in this sleepy little town saw a German soldier wandering down the streets, there would be a panic, and the game would be up, sooner or later. They would have to leave here. He didn't want that, either.</p>
  <p>Catching up to Timo, Berwald fell into his side and they slowed their mad dashes into very fast walking as the dirt road changed to cobble, attempting to remain discreet and avoid unwanted attention from distant neighbors that might have been passing. Darting through the quiet streets, they followed the bloody footprints, now harder to see as the high sun began to soften the snow enough to melt it from the centers of the sidewalk.</p>
  <p>The trail was becoming harder to follow.</p>
  <p>Timo was pale and breathless, hands tucked into his pockets as he turned his head this way and that as he struggled to find any sign of their escapee. Berwald raised his head, trying to see ahead in the distance.</p>
  <p>Nothing.</p>
  <p>The microscopic town was quickly coming to an end. Maybe they'd lost the soldier for good. And what then? A disaster. An unforgivable disaster. Their pace quickened into a frantic jogging. Timo was muttering to himself under his breath, boots thudding dully on the sidewalk as he looked about in a panic. Berwald felt embarrassed, more than anything.</p>
  <p>The last buildings were coming up, and still nothing, and now the urgency was overwhelming.</p>
  <p>Nothing.</p>
  <p>The last buildings passed.</p>
  <p>There was nothing. No more trail. No footprints. No obvious disturbance. No figure running in the distance. The German was gone. Vanished into thin air.</p>
  <p>They froze up, Timo staring out into the road that twisted up into the vast forest, a look of horror on his face, and Berwald could have just keeled over dead for the shame. Timo reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes and breathing in a strange, labored fashion as he might have been struggling not to burst into tears or begin pitching a fit. Either way, Berwald would not have blamed him. He deserved to be punched in the face.</p>
  <p>But as they stood there, completely still and probably looking crestfallen and defeated, there was suddenly a great cry from behind them.</p>
  <p>"Hey!"</p>
  <p>It took a second to break free of the gloom and whirl around.</p>
  <p>Standing there in the shadow of the last building, tucked towards the back and staying very much out of obvious sight, stood a man.</p>
  <p>The last building was the remnant of a once-occupied family bakery that went six feet under when the family had done the same, and now it just sat there, falling into ruin. Fallen wooden beams littered the back, standing up here and there at odd angles and propped up against tilting bricks, the encroaching weeds poking up above the snow and threatening to engulf the building entirely. And so it was surprising to see someone standing there in that gloom, half-hidden behind the beams and looming in the shadows, and it took Berwald a second of squinting to really realize who it was.</p>
  <p>Poking his head out from the darkness, his golden hair hit the sun and lit up.</p>
  <p>Magnus.</p>
  <p>Berwald felt like he <em>had</em> been punched, then. Magnus was not alone, and he stood back in the shadows because he had something dangerous within his hands. More specifically, he held up against him another man, one of his big hands tangled in a bloody collar and the other wrenching back his captive's arm in a firm vice.</p>
  <p>It hit him.</p>
  <p>Magnus had caught the German. Magnus had found him before he escaped for good. A flood of relief.</p>
  <p>Staring out at them from his hiding spot, Magnus lifted his chin, and said, lowly, "Come here. I got somethin' for ya."</p>
  <p>Berwald had never been so relieved to see Magnus. Not ever.</p>
  <p>When Timo was beside of him, Magnus shifted position, keeping a grip on the German's collar as Timo took out a length of rope from his pocket and reset binding the soldier's wrists together.</p>
  <p>This time the soldier was not struggling, and he just stood there, head bowed and eyes closed and completely silent, seeming to lean back against Magnus for support rather than really standing on his own, and Berwald could see the trickle of blood creeping down his neck. Magnus' hand wrenched so tightly in the stained shirt that he was forced up as straight as a board, even though he must have been dizzy.</p>
  <p>Magnus had ambushed him, no doubt.</p>
  <p>Finding his feet, Berwald followed Timo far back into the dusty gloom, where there were no prying eyes and it was safe to speak. As soon as he was near, Magnus caught his gaze, and sent him a wide smile that tottered on being a sneer.</p>
  <p>"Look what <em>I </em>found!" he cried, enthusiastically, as he reached around from behind and flicked the iron eagle patch on the German's breast triumphantly. "You lose something, Berwald?" As the blood continued to trickle down the soldier's neck, running over Magnus' hand, Berwald felt his ire rise in a very familiar fashion as Magnus leered at him from behind the German's shoulder. "Real good job you did of making sure he stayed put! Yeah, everything's going according to plan, right?"</p>
  <p>The relief was marred with resentment. That loud fuckin' mouth.</p>
  <p>In between them, as Timo finished up the binds, the German swayed haphazardly to and fro, as blood dripped down into the snow. Drifting in and out of consciousness, held up only by Magnus. Magnus had hit him hard. Maybe <em>too </em>hard. How much more could this soldier take? He was of no use to them gravely injured or dead, or even so senseless that he couldn't walk. They needed him awake and mobile, to make that walk across the lines.</p>
  <p>"Man, I'm glad you were out here," Timo finally said, voice low and almost a whisper, as though he were somehow worried about Berwald hearing him tossing kind words to Magnus. A strange, almost breathy tone of voice.</p>
  <p>Hated the way Timo spoke to Magnus.</p>
  <p>Shaking his head, Magnus only muttered back, "I shouldn't'a had to been grabbin' him at <em>all</em>. How'd he get loose? God, I thought... I thought he'd hurt you."</p>
  <p>Timo smiled, and seemed oddly flattered. "Worried about me, huh? Well, I'm glad for that, too!"</p>
  <p>Berwald was not. That way that they looked at each other.</p>
  <p>He stepped forward, grabbed the soldier's shirt, and said, "We're takin' him over there. So go get in the goddamn car so we can leave."</p>
  <p>A breathless smile. Magnus stared at him with wide eyes of incomprehension.</p>
  <p>"Takin' him?" came the soft whisper, and suddenly Timo tried to intervene, saying too loudly, "Yeah, we've got a plan! Let's go!"</p>
  <p>Magnus looked at them in turn, and seemed momentarily stunned. Berwald used it to his advantage. With one mighty yank, he successfully dislodged the swaying, battered soldier from Magnus' grip, and passed the German off to Timo. There was no resistance, as the soldier slumped within Timo's grasp, one too many knocks to the head keeping him subdued.</p>
  <p>Magnus crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall of the building, staring Berwald down with resentment.</p>
  <p>"So," he began, in a voice of thinly concealed fury, "Where were you taking him, exactly?"</p>
  <p>Since nothing that came out of his mouth ever seemed to be good to Magnus, Berwald just fell back, and let Timo explain aloud their sketchy plan. Since it was Timo, he was certain that Magnus would be responsive and willing.</p>
  <p>...right?</p>
  <p>But when Timo concluded with a weak, "So, this way we can get him back and everyone's happy, and we won't have to hide anyone."</p>
  <p>Silence. Magnus stared. And then his eyes snapped up to Berwald, as though he had somehow <em>felt </em>Berwald's hand upon this venture even through Timo's soothing voice.</p>
  <p>"You're—you're <em>stupid</em>!" was the response he finally got, and for a minute, Berwald was too stunned to move.</p>
  <p>He had been certain that Magnus would be on board. At least for Lukas, if nothing else.</p>
  <p>"You're really stupid, you know?" Magnus groaned, raising a hand up to his forehead, and maybe he was a little tipsy after all, as he collapsed against the building wearily. "You sat up all night and that was the best you could come up with? How did you think you were gonna do it? Did ya think you were gonna just walk up to them without gettin' shot? And even if ya did! Did you think they were really gonna go along with it? Are you really that stupid? As soon as he starts walking towards them they'd just shoot all of us! Christ, after that bomb! They won't do it, they won't, and if you really thought it would work then you're a lot stupider than I thought ya were."</p>
  <p>A terrible dumping of cold water on his confidence. Berwald tried to ignore the words and put on a brave front nonetheless, furrowing his brow and contenting himself with grabbing the German back from Timo.</p>
  <p>Let Timo deal with Magnus. He had better things to do.</p>
  <p>Yanking the dazed and wobbly soldier upright and pulling him along quite roughly, he turned his back on Magnus, and, after making sure the coast was clear, he began to drag the thorn in his side right back the way he had come from. The German's feet dragged through the snow at his side, all but a dead weight.</p>
  <p>Damn kid.</p>
  <p>"<em>Berwald</em>! Get <em>rid </em>of him! For god's sake!"</p>
  <p>Get rid of him. Like taking the pale-haired soldier out back and pushing him onto his knees and shooting him like a damn dog was just akin to tossing out the trash. He couldn't have done it.</p>
  <p>Magnus groaned from the shadows, as he was increasingly left behind.</p>
  <p>"He's bad news, I can tell! We need to just get rid of him now before we regret it!"</p>
  <p>Now Magnus was following behind, albeit at a very great distance, if only so that he could snipe more. Timo just sped his pace, taking the lead on both of them, and Berwald could see the storm brewing in his eyes as he passed. Timo, always disappointed in them.</p>
  <p>"He'll be nothing but trouble!" Magnus called after him, when Berwald ignored him and carried on, dragging the German forcefully, "You'll see, I'll be right in the end! Just wait!"</p>
  <p>Agitated, Berwald threw back, "Yeah, and a broken watch is right twice a day."</p>
  <p>A silence, and then Magnus tossed back his head and laughed, loudly, footsteps heavy as he quickened his pace, and Berwald did not spare him another glance as he walked down the empty streets.</p>
  <p>The German was heavy.</p>
  <p>Berwald could only duck his head and wonder to himself if maybe he could keep the stunned German and trade Magnus for Lukas instead. 'Hey, I want that Norwegian, so I offer instead this loud-mouthed Dane.' That might work.</p>
  <p>Pfft, yeah right. Who would ever want to take Magnus? He could take Magnus out back and <em>get rid </em>of him instead, though.</p>
  <p>...when had he become so bitter? Must've been the war. He hadn't thought such horrible things before it. Had he?</p>
  <p>That one day, so long ago.</p>
  <p>They weren't good people.</p>
  <p>The town streets were left behind, and the road became muddy as the cobble ended and the long, winding drive up to the house began. The German was all the more difficult to move uphill. Was he really so dazed or was he just faking it to be a pain in the ass? He wouldn't make another mistake, not this time. His grip upon the German's arm and collar tightened, and when he had dragged the limp Wehrmacht up the great hill and towards the car, he was forced to stand there for a second, and take a breather.</p>
  <p>Magnus bounded up behind, cheeks red for the cold and yet breathing easily.</p>
  <p>Maybe he was gettin' old.</p>
  <p>As if. He was just the only one pulling his weight here, and he all but said it by griping, loudly, "Go get the bags and put 'em in the car."</p>
  <p>Magnus just stood there. A moment of hesitation, and Berwald finally stomped his foot, as he ripped open the backdoor of the car to shove the woozy German inside.</p>
  <p>"Now!"</p>
  <p>Magnus sent him a foul, burning look, but retreated towards the steps anyway, probably only because Timo had burst out the door, lugging a heavy bag at his side. Magnus took it from him with eager hands and a charming smile.</p>
  <p>Berwald, in a burst of anger, unfairly took it out on the German by pushing him so hard into the car that he knocked his head on the opposite window. A dull grunt of pain, and Berwald slammed the door shut, nearly catching the German's heel in the door.</p>
  <p>The bags loaded up into the other car, safe out of reach of the rather conniving soldier, Timo looked about this way and that, and then caught Berwald's eyes, inclining his head to the slumped soldier.</p>
  <p>"I'm gonna put his boots on," he said, and Berwald only shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>"Fine. Do whatcha want."</p>
  <p>Reaching down, Timo took up the boots that were set out upon the steps, walking down towards the car as Berwald leaned against it, resting a palm against his temple and squinting his eyes.</p>
  <p>His head was already pounding in anxiety, and they hadn't even pulled out yet.</p>
  <p>Timo reached down, and opened the door.</p>
  <p>An innocent act.</p>
  <p>The tornado burst out from behind it.</p>
  <p>A blur and a flash of dull green, and the second that the car door had opened, the German had fallen forward in one great springing jump, kicking off from the edge of the metal frame and bounding towards freedom with fervor.</p>
  <p>Timo dropped the boots in shock, and it took Berwald a second to come screeching back into alertness with a jolt of fear.</p>
  <p>They reacted at the same time, and bolted.</p>
  <p>Berwald jumped over the piles of snow, feeling his heart thudding in his chest, and, <em>oh</em>, thank <em>god </em>that Magnus had hit the German so hard, for it was only because his balance was off and he staggered that Berwald was able to catch the back of his collar and drag him down.</p>
  <p>Fucker had been fakin' the whole time. Sneaky son of a bitch.</p>
  <p>He heard a cry of alarm and the slam of a door as Magnus jumped out to come to their aid, but it was a little late; as soon as the German was in his hands, he turned into a viper. Then came the mighty struggle, and even though by all rights the German should have been unconscious or damn-near dead, he still sought to break free, twisting and kicking and giving every effort to land his foot in Berwald's face.</p>
  <p>Fighting until the end.</p>
  <p>He tangled his hands in the German's hair in a desperate attempt to keep him from breaking away. Timo thrust his hands into the rope that bound the soldier's, and took hold.</p>
  <p>But still the German struggled.</p>
  <p>Were they trained to be so relentlessly determined? Wolves without fear and not understanding when they were beaten? Not knowing the word 'retreat'? Or were they just bred that way? Looking at him, icy-eyed and pale-haired and white as a ghost and still <em>fighting</em>, even as his eyes focused and unfocused as lightheadedness came and went, bleeding and run-down and yet somehow still so defiant, Berwald was inclined to believe it was the latter.</p>
  <p>The German had probably been born that way. Perfect soldiers.</p>
  <p>Berwald would have none of it, not right now, not with so much at stake, and with the unsettled equilibrium and loss of blood and numerous knocks to the head, the soldier was finally overpowered when Magnus was with them, placing a heavy boot upon the Germans' back, pressing him so hard into the snow that he was all but buried and certainly unable to breathe.</p>
  <p>Finally, under Magnus' unforgiving, crushing blow, the German gasped for air, and fell still.</p>
  <p>"Little bastard," Magnus grumbled to no one, and with a hiss of air through his teeth, he released his foot, and the German could breathe again.</p>
  <p>Berwald yanked him up onto his knees and dragged him quite unceremoniously back towards the car, sitting him down on the seat and holding him still as they took a quick breather and gathered their thoughts.</p>
  <p>"Told you he'd be trouble," Magnus said, bitterly.</p>
  <p>For once, maybe Magnus had been right.</p>
  <p>Reaching up to wipe his brow, Berwald stared down at the soldier, as drops of blood spattered down into his lap from his head wound, reopened in the struggle, and he found that he was absolutely confounded.</p>
  <p>Because even though he understood, perhaps, the training of a soldier and the refusal to ever give up, in this instance he felt that the German's kicking and hissing and spitting was absolutely <em>insane</em>. Insane! Why? Why was the German fighting? Hadn't Timo told him that he was going back to his comrades? Hadn't it been understood that they were going to set him <em>free</em>? He didn't understand why the idiot was fighting so hard to get away when they had already offered him salvation.</p>
  <p>Insane.</p>
  <p>As the German's chest heaved up and down as he gasped for breath, Timo saw an opportunity and came forward, back straight and a very stern look in his eyes. With careful movements, he grabbed up the boots from the snow, and knelt down.</p>
  <p>"I'm putting your boots on," Timo called up from down below, as he held one of the soldier's shoes within his hands, "So sit still, alright?"</p>
  <p>Berwald kept a firm grip, but the German just stared ahead, brow creased and lips pursed as he began to breathe through his nose, and he didn't say a word. Berwald realized that the soldier's feet were cut up and raw. Must have hurt like hell to run like he did, and yet he had pushed forward anyway.</p>
  <p>Looking a bit hesitant, Timo reached forward, tentatively, and took the German's left foot in his hand.</p>
  <p>He fell backwards just in time to dodge the other foot that aimed for his face.</p>
  <p>"Son of a bitch," Timo spat beneath his breath, and with a great sigh of frustration, he reclaimed the German's foot and tried again, jerking it forward none-too-gently.</p>
  <p>This time, no blow came, and maybe the German was considering that the benefits of shoes outweighed the undignified treatment of a child. He sat still, and Timo laced up his boots with sure hands, muttering to himself incoherently and no doubt wondering the same things as Berwald.</p>
  <p>Crazy, fighting back when you were on your way to see your countrymen.</p>
  <p>"There!" Timo said, as he pulled himself to his feet and clapped his hands together to free them of mud and snow, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"</p>
  <p>The German crinkled his nose and lifted his chin, turning primly away and averting his gaze. A vision of pride, even looking so dirty and damaged.</p>
  <p>"Let's get goin'," Timo finally said, after a silence, and Berwald nodded his head.</p>
  <p>As an afterthought, Magnus tossed out, "Tie his hands behind his back first. Tight."</p>
  <p>They did.</p>
  <p>Then, after making sure that the doors were locked securely and that there was nothing sharp or dangerous for the German to grab a hold of, it was with trembling hands that Berwald threw himself down into the driver's seat, gripping the wheel for dear life, and started the ignition. Timo sat at his side, and it was just like the ride here had been. Only this time, the soldier was awake, glaring holes at them from the backseat and sending shifty looks this way and that. Observing and calculating. A perfect engine of resourcefulness and cunning.</p>
  <p>They had to hurry, before the German outwitted them again.</p>
  <p>Magnus must have been thinking the same thing, or maybe he was just ready to get this whole mess over with, for he reversed so quickly down the hill that he nearly went right into the forest.</p>
  <p>Berwald followed him, as Timo kept an eye on the back.</p>
  <p>Timo's hand was ever upon his gun as the vehicles crept down the slushy road, tires sinking down in the mud and rocking back and forth as the uneven road twisted down past the town, in the opposite direction of which the German had run.</p>
  <p>Here, there were only forests, as far as the eye could see. Untouched land, dotted here and there with pristine lakes, quiet and calm and desolate. Wilderness.</p>
  <p>He glanced in the rearview mirror frequently, anxiously, but the German just stared out of the window, and seemed to be losing his battle with shock. Pulse racing in his neck, despite the look of lethargy upon his face, he sat still, and it was obvious that everything was catching up to him. They'd be lucky if he could still walk by the time they got there.</p>
  <p>Maybe Timo was thinking the same thing.</p>
  <p>"Lie down," he said, still twisted in his seat as he kept a secure eye on their catch, "You should rest up. You'll be there before you know it."</p>
  <p>Comforting words, but the German only pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the trees pass with dazed, bleary eyes.</p>
  <p>"Aren't you sleepy?" Timo asked, calmly.</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>"Try not to worry so much. Once you're in Norway, they'll take you to a hospital and have you feelin' better in no time!"</p>
  <p>Timo's German was much better than Berwald's. Smooth and easy, flowing with a quirky accent, trilled 'r's quite pleasant. Not the choppy, clumsy words that tumbled from his lips whenever he spoke that tricky language. And yet Timo's comforting voice and suave words seemed to have only a dismal effect on the German, who suddenly closed his eyes and shook his head to himself, swaying a bit as he sought to keep from just pitching forward into unconsciousness.</p>
  <p>A long, crushing quiet, and then a dreary whisper from behind.</p>
  <p>"These forests are old. Aren't a lot of places left like these."</p>
  <p>Well. That was...</p>
  <p>Odd.</p>
  <p>Timo furrowed his brow, and he and Berwald shared a look.</p>
  <p>"Hey!" Timo called, a hint of worry in his voice, "Is your head hurting? Hey! Look at me."</p>
  <p>The soldier did, slowly, and Timo squinted his eyes to observe him with hawkish scrutiny.</p>
  <p>A hand was raised.</p>
  <p>"How many fingers am I holding up?"</p>
  <p>The German only tilted his head to the side, and after a moment of concentration, he ignored Timo's inquiry and turned his eyes back to the window and said, "Sweden's nice, isn't it? ...don't really need to go to Norway."</p>
  <p>Timo's hand fell back down onto his gun, and now his look was a bit alarmed.</p>
  <p>Switching easily from German to Swedish, he caught Berwald's eye and grumbled, lowly, "I think he took one too many bumps to the head. You think he even really knows what's going on? Christ, he might be about ready to throw the spoon, if you know what I mean."</p>
  <p>Berwald pursed his lips, and shook his head.</p>
  <p>Well, maybe that could explain it. The German fought so hard because he had been knocked senseless, and when on the verge of death, all thought was gone; only instincts remained. He fought because that was what he had been trained to do, and because he was unable to comprehend and grasp that he was being led to safety.</p>
  <p>That made more sense. And yet...</p>
  <p>Uncertain and mistrustful, he only said, "Just keep watchin' him."</p>
  <p>Timo obeyed.</p>
  <p>The minutes turned into a long, quiet hour, and then another, and still they drove, Berwald struggling to keep up with Magnus' racing car up ahead.</p>
  <p>The German didn't move. He just sat there, resting his head against the glass and breathing strangely, possibly trying to stave off the darkness of sleep and death. Maybe he was gathering his strength for one last tussle.</p>
  <p>For the first time, Berwald spoke up.</p>
  <p>"Hey."</p>
  <p>After a second, the German turned his weary head, and blinked, slowly and lethargically. Listening.</p>
  <p>"Listen," he began, as Timo's hand was a mere hair-trigger above the handle of his gun, "It's not hard, alright? Can ya walk? All ya gotta do is walk. I'm gonna stand you there in front of 'em, alright? Just walk. Straight. Don't stop. Can ya do that?"</p>
  <p>He waited, but there was no answer, and the soldier fell back into the corner, yet again pressing against the glass.</p>
  <p>Timo furrowed his brow, and shifted uncomfortably. Berwald felt a twinge of disappointment. Hadn't the soldier understood? Maybe his accent was too thick. He had very nearly turned to Timo and asked him to repeat that small request in his smoother tongue, but before he could utter a word, the German said something very strange.</p>
  <p>"Stop. Turn around."</p>
  <p>The words were so low and so thick that they were almost lost to the air, and Berwald could not help but look up into the mirror.</p>
  <p>"What?"</p>
  <p>The German was leaning forward now, his bound hands twisting restlessly behind his back, shoulders lifting up and down as he stared at them.</p>
  <p>"Go back."</p>
  <p>Timo straightening up in his seat, his look wide-eyed and astounded.</p>
  <p>"You—don't you understand what's goin' on? You're alright. We're not gonna hurt you. Just be still. Don't you understand what we're saying? We're taking you to your friends, okay?"</p>
  <p>It should have been comforting, but it wasn't. The German began to fidget, turning his pale eyes back and forth between the windows. Not a good sign. A weak whisper.</p>
  <p>"No, stop. Turn around. Go back. You're going the wrong way."</p>
  <p>"Sit still!" Timo cried, his voice high as the German scooted himself to the other side of the car and pressed against it, looking desperate for escape.</p>
  <p>What the hell was going on with this man? Something was off. Danger.</p>
  <p>"This isn't the right way," the soldier muttered to himself, and Berwald found himself pressing the gas pedal into the floorboard in an attempt to make this trip go faster.</p>
  <p>Before something bad happened. The soldier was becoming increasingly alert.</p>
  <p>"Shit, Berwald, he's going to start up again!" Timo hissed, anxiously, as the soldier scooted from one side to the other, in an apparent attempt to pick out a weakness in his prison, searching for a thin spot in the glass or a loose item to grab.</p>
  <p>Not good. Not good. The panic was mounting. Magnus, alone up ahead, had no idea of what was going on in this car. Would he know if something suddenly went amiss and they needed help?</p>
  <p>Sounds of shuffling. Muttering. The German's deep, rumbling voice was all the more intimidating and imposing when he was muttering. Maybe the concussion was making him act this way.</p>
  <p>Timo's voice was nearly as deep, from alarm. "Hurry up, Berwald. Go faster."</p>
  <p>He pressed the gas. Dread. The sounds of movement and scuffling suddenly stopped. Everything was quiet.</p>
  <p>Timo twitched, and had nearly sighed in relief.</p>
  <p>And then there was a great, dull thud, and Berwald twisted around in alarm, and it was with a lurch of absolute horror that he saw the soldier tilting his body to one side and then slamming himself into the door as hard as he could, in a desperate, crazed attempt to break free of the vehicle.</p>
  <p>Eyes distracted, there was a great clatter and the car shook up and down, and he turned his attention back to the road just in time to avoid falling straight into a ditch, gripping the steering wheel to keep from swerving as Timo cried, angrily, "Hey! Knock it off! What are you doing? Stop!"</p>
  <p>The German didn't, slamming himself over and over again, and when Berwald heard the car door creaking threateningly with the pressure, he knew he had no choice. Risking losing Magnus ahead, he yanked the steering wheel to the left and skidded off the road, coming to a halt in the muddy field.</p>
  <p>The engine died down.</p>
  <p>All he could think was, 'Shit.' Not good. The door might have been compromised. Goddamn crazy son of a bitch.</p>
  <p>Timo pulled out his gun. A click.</p>
  <p>As soon as the car was still and nothing moved, Berwald kicked open his door, more angry than he was scared, and when he stalked out and wrenched the back door open, it was to quickly grab up the soldier's collar and give him a firm, frustrated throttle, barely keeping his fingers from closing around the German's throat. The urge to strangle was heavy. Frustration was overwhelming.</p>
  <p>"Won't ya sit still?" he shouted, furiously, and when the soldier just stared up at him, defiantly, he gave the blithering idiot a final shake and then shoved him back into the seat and pulled out his own gun with a quick hand.</p>
  <p>He could hear the screech of tires on the road as Magnus grinded to a halt ahead, finally aware that he had lost the flank.</p>
  <p>Hurry up.</p>
  <p>Timo leapt out of the passenger's seat, sinking down into the mud, and sloshed through it to rush to his side.</p>
  <p>Two guns were suddenly pointed at the German's head, and yet he didn't really seem to even <em>notice</em>. He just stared up at them, body tense, and said, dazedly, "Hey! Let me out here."</p>
  <p>...<em>what</em>?</p>
  <p>It took every ounce of restraint not to reach out and slap the soldier across the face, if only to try and knock some sense into him.</p>
  <p>"What's wrong with ya?" was all Berwald managed in the end, and the German's dazed look faded into darkness.</p>
  <p>A storm on the horizon.</p>
  <p>"Let me out."</p>
  <p>They stood firm before him. He could hear the other car screeching back in reverse. Magnus was rushing. A dull, loud thunk from above as the car went from road down a ditch and into the field. They only looked up for a second. Just a second.</p>
  <p>It happened quickly.</p>
  <p>Seeing their eyes distracted if only by a twitch, the German burst forward like a tiger, despite the guns aimed at him, and they were so caught off guard and so stunned at his boldness and fearlessness that he almost broke right by them as their fingers froze on the triggers, knowing that they couldn't shoot him.</p>
  <p>He ran.</p>
  <p>Timo's quick fingers shot out and caught the soldier by his bound hands, pulling him back until he fell into the mud. Berwald leapt forward atop of him.</p>
  <p>It wasn't so easy this time, and even though his hands were bound behind his back and his hair was matted with blood and he could hardly breathe, the soldier rolled over, given room to wriggle and slip away by the soft ground beneath him, and an absolutely titanic struggle ensued. The German fought like a lion. Even without his hands he was still damn near impossible to get next to, rolling and dodging around them, and he was not afraid of the gun, no matter how hard it was pressed into him or where. Their own words turned against them, no doubt, and the soldier ignored the gun as easily as one ignored a fly, because he knew that they couldn't shoot him because they had told him several times that they <em>needed </em>him.</p>
  <p>A mistake.</p>
  <p>Writhing this way and that, he continually broke out of Timo's grasp, and when Berwald tried to come near, a swift leg shot out with surprising accuracy, forcing him back. When Berwald actually managed to grab his collar from behind, the German's bound hands became a weapon too, as he dug fingernails hard enough into his skin to draw blood, even from above the fabric of his shirt.</p>
  <p>Timo came too close and found himself forehead to forehead with a particularly energetic head-butt.</p>
  <p>A dazed moment of confusion.</p>
  <p>Christ almighty, the German just wouldn't go down. They couldn't put him down.</p>
  <p>Agitation and aggression were replaced with absolute terror. The German would fight to the death. Anything went. Scratching, biting, kicking, hitting, clawing, pushing, pulling, tackling, anything and everything to get away. Berwald had never been engaged in such a pitiless grapple for life itself, never fighting like this. He had gotten into brawls, far too many to count, in drunken stupors in bars and on the street, but never like <em>this</em>; never where intent to harm went far beyond incapacitating and into murder.</p>
  <p>The soldier would kill them if he had to, to get away.</p>
  <p>Timo was knocked down to the ground.</p>
  <p>The German rolled away from them somehow, covered in mud and sweat and blood, and he pulled himself to his feet, leaving a kneeling Berwald a foot to the ribs as a parting gift, and with gasping breaths made a mad dash for the road. But Timo caught his pant-leg at the last moment and brought him down, and the second the soldier hit the ground he was kicking out again, one of his boots hitting the underside of the car hard enough to knock the muffler sideways.</p>
  <p>Nothing stopped him.</p>
  <p>For a moment, Berwald was <em>scared</em>. Frightened that maybe this ruthless determination would pay off, that maybe the German could somehow fight his way out of this, or that he would become so dangerous that he would force Berwald to shoot him right there and take hope for Lukas along with him to the grave.</p>
  <p>He heard Magnus shouting from a distance, as he came sprinting over, sliding down the muddy incline.</p>
  <p>Timo was on top of the German, trying to pin him down. To no avail. Timo was strong, but the adrenaline-fueled German was stronger, and finally Timo was shaken off and tossed aside without a second glance. Berwald tried to catch up to him as he ran again, this time for the forest, in what was surely an attempt to throw them off his trail within the trees.</p>
  <p>Berwald caught him by only a millimeter, his fingers grasping the coarse fabric of the dull-green uniform.</p>
  <p>He got too close.</p>
  <p>The German jerked his head back with a grunt of determination, hitting Berwald square in the nose and cracking his glasses in the middle. His vision went black. Dazed, his grip slackened and he tripped over his own feet and down onto one knee. The soldier was quick to turn around, taking advantage of his stunned second, and with numbing force, he pulled back his leg and kicked Berwald as hard as he could in the chest, his steel-toed boot connecting right where the ribs met the abdomen.</p>
  <p>A blazing pain. The wind was knocked out him, and he fell back onto the ground. Hard.</p>
  <p>Breathless and already feeling the blood rushing into his mouth, he could only lay there and stare up a the white sky, dazed and hurt and painfully immobile. Pounding in his ears.</p>
  <p>Time slowed. He couldn't breathe. The world seemed miles away.</p>
  <p>White sky.</p>
  <p>Silly thoughts in the depths of darkness.</p>
  <p>It occurred to him that maybe it had been a blessing in disguise that the German had knocked him back down onto the ground, after days of running here and there and not sleeping and not resting, and this was surely the only way he was ever going to allow himself to sit still and get some shut-eye. He could have slept quite easily right there.</p>
  <p>Sleep.</p>
  <p>Field. Bed. Same thing. He could have gone to sleep.</p>
  <p>Timo.</p>
  <p>The white sky melded into the tall dark pines in the remnants of his glasses.</p>
  <p>Timo wasn't down yet.</p>
  <p>He could have just gone to sleep, and yet despite the burning in his abdomen and the blood that began to trickle down his chin, he somehow pulled himself up at the waist, if only because the situation was dire and Timo was still fighting, and he couldn't stop and make another great mistake. Digging his fingers into the mud to balance himself, he looked ahead through bleary eyes, hearing only a whooshing and seeing only darkness.</p>
  <p>His head hurt.</p>
  <p>His vision cleared after seconds, and he could see the worst possible outcome beyond the bleary windows of his cracked glasses.</p>
  <p>Timo was on the ground too, trying to push himself up, his arms shaking so fiercely that he could see it even beneath his bulky coat, and the German was leaving them behind like dust, limping as fast as he could without collapsing towards the trees. Getting away. Berwald tried to stand. He faltered, falling back down into the mud.</p>
  <p>The German's form was ever farther away. Disappearing into the mists.</p>
  <p>No hope.</p>
  <p>Before he could bring himself even up to his knees, as the dull thudding in his ears faded and he could hear again, he raised his eyes just in time to see Magnus reaching the scene and taking the soldier down with a great leap. Timo was up first, rushing over to the scene of the new struggle, where Magnus was flailing to control the snarling wolf.</p>
  <p>Cries and curses.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't seem to make it up past his knees. Hurt like hell to breathe. Maybe he was past his prime for all of this.</p>
  <p>The shouting ahead finally stopped.</p>
  <p>Feeling rather useless and certainly mortified, Berwald finally dragged himself up to his unsteady feet and wobbled over to them, and the sight ahead was a wonderful thing. Magnus had the German pressed down into the mud, a knee in his back, and Timo was all but sitting on his legs to keep him still, their hands keeping him shoved down into the soft earth.</p>
  <p>It was obvious, though, by the rasping way the soldier was breathing, that the fight was over.</p>
  <p>Reaching them, Berwald leaned down and grabbed the soldier's collar in a shaking hand, and with Magnus' assistance, pulled the Wehrmacht up out of the mud and onto his backside. No struggle this time.</p>
  <p>Timo reached up and wiped his brow, shaking his head in what could have been disbelief. Berwald shared the sentiment, and placed his hand on the German's shoulder, keeping him pressed firmly down, if only to appear a bit more useful than he had actually been.</p>
  <p>With the soldier in Berwald's grasp, Magnus fell back a bit, his hand settling upon his nose as he turned eyes back up to the car.</p>
  <p>A thick, humorless snort.</p>
  <p>"Piece of shit now," he mumbled through his palm, and Berwald nearly scoffed.</p>
  <p>The car was the least of his concerns, but he looked up at it nonetheless, and could see that it was certainly, as Magnus declared, a veritable piece of shit. Door hanging off by its hinges, muffler dragging down into the dirt, paint scraped and scratched, dents in the side from the soldier's boots and looking nothing like the shiny vehicle it had been only minutes earlier.</p>
  <p>The car looked like it had just been tossed out of the center of a tornado. He probably looked the same, and certainly Timo did.</p>
  <p>The German looked like he had crawled up right out of hell.</p>
  <p>Sitting on the ground, pushed down into the mud and snow by his shoulders beneath Berwald's hands, he ducked his head down close to his knees, panting so heavily for breath that Berwald could hear the gasping rattle as his lungs struggled to cope with the overload. His pulse pounded in his neck, the rising and falling of flowing blood visible even to Berwald up above. Blood ran everywhere, staining his uniform and coating his hair and seeping into the ground itself. The German's shoulder had no doubt been dislocated; a strange angle and the feel of something suspicious under his palm was a good indicator.</p>
  <p>Too much.</p>
  <p>"Damaged goods," Magnus muttered aloud, and, sure enough, the soldier suddenly slumped forward, his head now so far down between his splayed legs that his forehead was pressing into the muddy field, his struggle for air renewed with heavy gasps. There was a danger, perhaps, of his heart pounding so furiously that it would just give out completely and he would drop dead right there. His ghostly paleness was certainly a sign that something was amiss within.</p>
  <p>Just too much. Dumb kid had pushed himself too far.</p>
  <p>Everyone had been pushed too far. He looked up, and took them in.</p>
  <p>Magnus' nose was pouring blood. Crimson spilled from between his fingers as he stood there, staring ahead in a daze and completely still, dripping in a steady stream down into the muddled snow. Possibly broken. His messy clothes were stained and torn and all but worthless, his golden hair soaked and clinging to his scalp and face. He looked dark. Brooding. Unusually belligerent, even for a constant trouble-starter.</p>
  <p>Timo's pale skin and hair were dark with a mottled mixture of blood and dirt. A wound on his forehead was covered by a shaking hand. His entire body was shaking, for that matter, underneath his coat as his body tried to recover from the shock. Chest heaving in exhaustion and dripping sweat, despite the cold air. Battered and bruised and yet still standing.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't sure how he looked, but he knew how he felt.</p>
  <p>His stomach and chest hurt like holy hell, and he had no doubt that if he had lifted up his shirt, he would have seen rather ugly bruises already forming, framed on either side by shallow gashes made by the soldier's nails. Breathing hurt. Might have cracked a rib when the German had used his chest as a glorified football. The inside of his mouth was full of blood; a strong, unpleasant taste of metal. Everything was blurry. His glasses were scratched and cracked almost to the point of destruction. Despite it all, despite the blood and the pain and the weariness, <em>that </em>irritated him more than anything. His glasses. Couldn't see shit without his glasses.</p>
  <p>Timo would be driving from here on out.</p>
  <p>They stood there, a half circle around the spent soldier, and no one spoke. What a brawl.</p>
  <p>"Well," Timo finally said, shakily, "Now what?"</p>
  <p>Good question. There was no way they could go on like this. Not like this, not when their ticket to Lukas' freedom was now an immobile, beaten mess upon the ground. There was no way. It couldn't happen.</p>
  <p>"Oh, fuck it all," Magnus spat thickly from behind his hand. "He wants to go? Let's just leave him here. See how long he lasts out in the middle of nowhere. Fuck him."</p>
  <p>Berwald had no rebuttal. He almost shared the feeling.</p>
  <p>"Oh," Timo suddenly moaned, "This isn't gonna work! We should've thought about this better. This isn't gonna work, not with him like this... <em>Oh</em>, what were we <em>thinking</em>?"</p>
  <p>Berwald hung his head, ashamed.</p>
  <p>"We should just go back," Timo continued, in a rare moment of dismal hopelessness, "It's already too late. We messed up. We can't help him. Let's just go back."</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't want to admit defeat.</p>
  <p>He tried to straighten up, and at least act like a leader, even if he didn't much feel like one.</p>
  <p>"We can at least still go and figure out if he's alive," Berwald said, ignoring Magnus' dreary little giggles, "and maybe we can still get him over there. We can still do it. If Lukas is alive, then we still have a shot."</p>
  <p>Magnus, pinching his nose to try and stop the flow of blood, gave a great sigh and muttered, nasally, "Do what you want, you big idiot, just do what you want. Who cares?"</p>
  <p>With that, he tuned on his heel and pulled himself heavily up the slope, heading back towards the car with wide steps, grumbling under his breath and throwing out his fist in agitation.</p>
  <p>Timo just stood there, and finally whispered, "Berwald, we should just go back instead."</p>
  <p>The German was gasping for air.</p>
  <p>Everyone was against him.</p>
  <p>"Or," Timo offered, seeing his reluctance to back down, "We could always just take him down to those guys that stay near Stockholm. They'd give us some good ammo for him. A Wehrmacht."</p>
  <p>Berwald sent him a look, spitting blood onto the ground and raising his voice to be heard above the rattle of the German's breathing.</p>
  <p>"You know what they'll do to him, don't ya?"</p>
  <p>Timo's eyes darkened.</p>
  <p>"Yeah, I know. But if someone's gonna do it, better be someone else than us. We can go without that on our hands."</p>
  <p>Timo looked down at the German, and shifted uncomfortably.</p>
  <p>"And you'd be alright with that?" Berwald asked, carefully, and it didn't need to be said that Germans who were caught by some rebels never saw the light of day again, sometimes in horrible ways, but Timo finally shrugged a shoulder and averted his eyes.</p>
  <p>"No. But I'd get over it. After a while."</p>
  <p>Well. What could he do? Everyone was against him. Even the goddamn German, who by all rights should have been cooperating more than anyone. None of them believed in his plan.</p>
  <p>An impatient cry from up above.</p>
  <p>"I'm about to leave! Shoot him or come on!"</p>
  <p>A wave of defeat washed over him, standing alone in his opinion and without backup, and he sighed as he forced himself to move, lifting his feet and trying to drag the German along by his collar up the slope. Timo jumped in to help, taking an arm with a tentative look.</p>
  <p>What a mess.</p>
  <p>Feeling himself being moved, the German looked up at them, cold-sweating and panting and looking like he was about to vomit, and after a moment of great struggling, he found his voice and began to speak, weakly and yet obviously in an attempt to negotiate, from the smoother tone. Negotiate. For what?</p>
  <p>"Hey," he began, in a whisper so shaky and low that it was scarcely audible above the wind, "Listen. Why don't you just drop me off somewhere? Here, even! You can just leave me here."</p>
  <p>Timo sent him a foul look, as they dragged him like a dog up the hill, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Such strange statements, even for someone so knocked around. Unnerving, somehow. Reaching the car, they tossed him yet again into the backseat, and Berwald tried to shut the door, jamming it back into place as best he could for the way it was bending.</p>
  <p>Magnus started the car ahead, and sat, waiting impatiently.</p>
  <p>Berwald fell down into the passenger's seat, and the urge to sleep was very present as he rested his elbow upon the windowsill, running a hand over the sore bridge of his nose. Too much stress.</p>
  <p>Timo came in at his side, and when he turned the key and started the engine, the German, seemingly alarmed and almost desperate, spoke up again.</p>
  <p>What he said was absolutely astounding.</p>
  <p>"What if I told you that I don't want to go to Norway?"</p>
  <p>Feeling suddenly so dazed that even the aching in his chest didn't bother him anymore, Berwald twisted in his seat and stared back, piercing blue eyes meeting his own, and he was certain that he had just misheard. Maybe he had hit his head, too.</p>
  <p>Reaching up to wipe the drying blood from his chin with an absent hand, Berwald only managed to say, "What was that?"</p>
  <p>The soldier, or at least the dirty, battered, exhausted shell of him, leaned forward, his pale eyes blazing alarmingly bright from within his dirty, bloody face, breathing short and shallow and body rigid. Bristling as though being shocked, no doubt bursting with adrenaline.</p>
  <p>He said, again, "I don't want to go to Norway."</p>
  <p>Timo looked back too, in shock. "What did you say?"</p>
  <p>Maybe sensing that he was close to getting what he wanted, the soldier finally stopped twitching and fidgeting, and fell frighteningly still, going quickly from electricity to stoniness.</p>
  <p>"I'm not going to Norway."</p>
  <p>Ahead, Magnus honked the horn impatiently. Berwald barely even heard it.</p>
  <p>The German stared at them, unblinking and unwavering. Hardly even breathing.</p>
  <p>Timo leaned back, so surprised at what was being said that he didn't seem to realize he was putting his face very close to the head of a man who had already shown a great fondness for using it as a weapon.</p>
  <p>"What are you saying?" he asked, and the soldier leapt upon the question immediately.</p>
  <p>"Leave me here! Leave me in Sweden. I'm not going to Norway."</p>
  <p>Berwald's mouth very nearly fell open in shock. Timo's did. They shared a look. Something was not right with this.</p>
  <p>Perplexed, Berwald narrowed his eyes and grumbled, "What're ya playin' at, huh?"</p>
  <p>The pale, tired soldier gave a breathless laugh.</p>
  <p>"No game. Let me stay in Sweden."</p>
  <p>"Why?" Timo asked, quickly, voice low and suspicious.</p>
  <p>The German furrowed his brow. "Don't worry about <em>why</em>," he tossed back, snippily, "Just untie these fuckin' ropes and let me get the hell out of here. I'm not goin' with you, wherever you're trying to take me."</p>
  <p>Not amused, Timo snapped back, "We're <em>trying </em>to take you back to your <em>friends</em>! You understand that, or what? What's going on with you?"</p>
  <p>A silence. The soldier's look became dark and dangerous.</p>
  <p>"I don't have any friends," he hissed, lowly, "And I'm <em>not </em>going to Norway. No matter what you do."</p>
  <p>No matter what, huh? He would see about that.</p>
  <p>Pulling out his gun yet again and pressing it into the German's muddy forehead, Berwald pushed him back and grunted, "What if I said that yer goin'"—he pulled back the hammer—"whether ya like it or not?"</p>
  <p>No movement, and he was hardly even startled that the German did not flinch, not even a bit, as he sat there with a gun pressed into his head. Not even a twitch. Well, he hadn't been afraid of it before. Why start now?</p>
  <p>Then he narrowed his pale eyes, crossed his legs and lifted his good shoulder, and said, defiantly, "Make me."</p>
  <p>Acting like the kid he was.</p>
  <p>Berwald was <em>certain</em>, then, that he had hit his head. Had to have. This was not happening. It wasn't. He needed a <em>damn</em> good explanation for this entire ordeal.</p>
  <p>"Why don't ya wanna go back to 'em?"</p>
  <p>The explanation he sought was denied, and the German neatly ignored his inquiry with a pursing of his lips.</p>
  <p>"I'm not going," was the only response he got, and the soldier turned up his pale eyes, catching his gaze with a frightening intensity. A solemn oath. "I won't go. I'll make you shoot me right there in front of them. I won't go."</p>
  <p>His gun almost fell. A sense of dread.</p>
  <p>Well, there went Lukas' chance right out the window.</p>
  <p>Because if the German was really serious (and boy, did he look it!) and they tried an exchange at the border, it would not end well. Lukas would start walking, but instead of keeping his end of the bargain, the German would just stand there, and then he'd turn around and come at them, and maybe Berwald would have no choice but to shoot him. The Germans, in turn, would shoot Lukas before he could complete the journey, and a battle would begin, surely ending in catastrophe for this little group.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>This wouldn't work. How could you force the hand of a man who was not afraid of anything, even death? This stupid soldier was not living up to the invaluable bounty that he should have been. Just trouble. Magnus had seen it.</p>
  <p>Agitated and not really knowing what else to do, Berwald turned to Timo and grumbled, "Turn around. We're goin' back. We'll figure somethin' else out. Fuck it."</p>
  <p>Timo stared at him for a stunned second, and then nodded his head, and put the car into reverse. There was no doubt, as they went in the opposite direction, that Magnus was shouting every obscenity he knew inside of the other car, banging his fists on the steering wheel and wondering what the fuck everyone was doing.</p>
  <p>They were clueless. It was shameful.</p>
  <p>There was one person, at least, who seemed pleased, and when the German realized that they were not continuing the journey to the Norwegian border, he fell back into his seat with a great sigh, and fell immediately into unconsciousness, shocked body giving in to exhaustion.</p>
  <p>Shaking his head and feeling sick, Berwald pressed the side of the gun into his own forehead in exasperation, and grumbled, "I don't even know what I'm doin' anymore."</p>
  <p>Timo, hands shaking on the wheel, shook his head.</p>
  <p>"Yeah. Me neither."</p>
  <p>What a mess. This might have meant the end of his leadership here. He was proving to be incompetent. One member gone. Two losing faith. One troublesome German soldier.</p>
  <p>The ride back home seemed like days rather than hours. A walk of shame. The German was quiet and still in the backseat, his breathing steady and deep. At least one of them was resting easy. The blurry landscape flew by, his damaged glasses lending little aid to his vision as he rested his chin in his palm, tired and sick with worry and chest burning.</p>
  <p>Timo didn't speak at all on the ride back.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't really realize when they pulled into the drive, lost up in his head and mentally preparing himself for a loner's life again. Timo and Magnus might part ways with him after this whole thing. Alone again. The story of his life.</p>
  <p>A car door shutting brought him out of his stupor, and he saw the house looming up ahead of him. Timo was at the back door, waiting. Magnus came stomping up from behind. Berwald sat still. Reluctant to move. Numb.</p>
  <p>He could already hear Magnus' big mouth.</p>
  <p>"Now what are we doin'? Huh? What the hell are we doin' now? If we were just gonna come back, then we coulda just left him out there! Why are we bringin' him back here? Doesn't anyone know what they're doing?"</p>
  <p>Heart pounding and stomach twisting, Berwald finally pulled himself out of the car, feeling a burning stretch in his side as he did so, and without sparing a glance at volatile Magnus, he and Timo banded together to drag the unconscious soldier back up the steps. Magnus only stood there, looking irate and confused. Berwald didn't bother to try and explain anything. He didn't really know what he could say, anyway. He couldn't admit his mistakes, and Magnus picked apart his reasoning with ruthlessness. Better to stay quiet.</p>
  <p>Timo opened the door, and before he knew it, they were back exactly where they had been before, with a soldier in the house and nothing to do with him, and still no Lukas. First base, again.</p>
  <p>Lukas was surely already lost.</p>
  <p>As soon as the soldier was tossed down onto the bed, Berwald turned on his heel and walked off, not even bothering to tie him to the post. For what? The German had made it clear that he had no interest in leaving Sweden. There was surely nothing else left within him to fuel him on another run, anyway, not after all of that.</p>
  <p>Timo would sit with him and keep an eye on him.</p>
  <p>Ambling off down the wall, he trudged up the stairs and, for the first time in days, walked into his bedroom. Almost a strange sight. Quickly, he collapsed upon the bed, dirty as he was, and buried his face in his pillow, taking small comfort in the smell of clean linen and air that was not laden with blood and dirt, his boots dangling off the edge.</p>
  <p>He was <em>tired</em>.</p>
  <p>Darkness rolled upon him quickly.</p>
  <p>As he faded in and out of sleep, time dragging into an endless stream, he thought he heard raised voices from down below. Timo and Magnus arguing. He would rather that they argued amongst themselves than band together to bad-mouth him. He would rather that Timo shouted at Magnus than whispered at him.</p>
  <p>The sun was low in the horizon. Darkness all around.</p>
  <p>He drifted here and there.</p>
  <p>His thoughts became strange at times, when he floated into the realm of unconsciousness. Reality blurred into dream. Whispers and voices and feelings of alarm and vulnerability. The faces of the dead appeared to haunt him, as they often did. Faces of the soldiers he'd killed. Burnt, bloody, hollow-eyed and pale and always staring, peering out of closets and shadows and from beneath the bed, even from behind the shimmering curtain as it fluttered in the breeze of the night.</p>
  <p>They never really went away.</p>
  <p>Time passed in a blur of stress and agitation. Sleep came and went. Heavy and drowsy, but not refreshing. The kind of sleep where you woke up more exhausted than before.</p>
  <p>He vaguely heard the ringing of the phone from below.</p>
  <p>Doubt. Uncertainty. Same old things.</p>
  <p>He started upright only when the door of his room was pushed open, and a voice drifted in.</p>
  <p>"Berwald?"</p>
  <p>Friendly. Not a dead man's voice.</p>
  <p>Looking over, he saw Timo standing there in the frame, looking clean and freshly-dressed, and Berwald noticed right off that Timo was smiling.</p>
  <p>Smiling?</p>
  <p>Timo's next words said it all.</p>
  <p>"Lukas is safe."</p>
  <p>A moment of stunned silence, and then the relief came flooding in like the breaking of a dam, and he only managed to ask, huskily, "How?"</p>
  <p>Timo only waved a hand and shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>"Who knows! Just got a call from him. Can you believe it? He's in some little store near the highway down south. Who knows how he gets out of these things. Just when you think he's dead for sure, he pops back up!" Leaning in a bit further, obviously in a much better mood, Timo tossed him a careless, amicable wink, adding airily, "Sometimes I wonder if he's really just Lemminkäinen."</p>
  <p>Berwald lied there, dumbly, and asked, "He's on his way back?"</p>
  <p>"No," Timo quipped, "Said he was goin' down to Stockholm for a little bit."</p>
  <p>"What for?"</p>
  <p>"Shopping! Said he's got a brand new car to bring home, too. A German car."</p>
  <p>Timo carried on his merry way, with the bouncing steps of renewed confidence, leaving him to sit alone in his silence.</p>
  <p>It took a few minutes to sink in.</p>
  <p>Lukas was safe.</p>
  <p>And whether or not Lukas had some hidden magical abilities that he had yet to reveal to his mortal companions was not as great an interest to <em>him </em>as it was to Timo. He didn't care if Lukas was a sorcerer or a shape-shifter or a demon or a fairy or just really fuckin' <em>lucky</em>—just as long as he was safe and sound and around to connect those cables and fix those fuses. Not only that; Lukas' safety ensured his position. A selfish thought, for sure, but one he valued nonetheless. Because once Lukas was back, it was no harm, no foul. Magnus had no reason to rebel. One great obstacle overcome.</p>
  <p>Reaching up and running dirty fingers through his matted, muddy hair, he heaved a great sigh, and pulled himself to his feet, nearly bumping into the end-table for his scratched glasses. He'd have to get new ones.</p>
  <p>There was only left one thing to settle, then.</p>
  <p>The soldier, and his strange attitude towards returning to his comrades.</p>
  <p>Walking unsteadily to his door, he turned his feet towards the stairs and made a line for the soldier down below, seeking to figure out this position a little better now that Lukas' life was not dangling up above his head.</p>
  <p>When he landed off the last stair, he heard a muffled grunt of pain from within the bedroom where the soldier lied, and, feeling that old rush of panic, rushed towards the door. This time there was no brawl. Just the soldier sitting up on the bed, back in the real word and slumping forward, holding himself upright by an elbow, and he had cried out because Timo, standing above, had shoved his dislocated shoulder back into its socket.</p>
  <p>"There," Timo muttered, mostly to himself, "Think I got it!"</p>
  <p>The German grunted, and bowed his head, jaw clenched so tightly that his pulse was visible. Timo only smiled and slapped his shoulder gently, "Did I get it?"</p>
  <p>Hissing in pain at Timo's airy pat, the soldier ground out, "Yeah, I think you got it."</p>
  <p>"Told ya!"</p>
  <p>Berwald froze up in the frame as he took in the scene, and he realized with a jolt of horror that the German's hands were no longer tied. Timo had cut them loose. Berwald nearly groaned, 'Oh, for Christ's sake!' but didn't have time, for Timo looked up at him, and said, casually, "Hey, Berwald, maybe you should go get that vodka out of the car."</p>
  <p>He didn't move, choosing instead to stare at them.</p>
  <p>Timo checking over the soldier, ignoring his own wounds to tend to the captive's. The soldier allowing him to poke and prod, tense and rigid and yet no longer showing any signs of aggression.</p>
  <p>The Finn and the German, enemies and yet not.</p>
  <p>It shouldn't have surprised him. Timo's bouts of aggression had always been directed at the Soviets. Never the Germans, to whom many Finns had been trained by and had also sworn allegiance to. The Finns and the Germans who could share a dislike of the Soviets and maybe even work together for it. That was why it was easier for Timo to sit here with him and not be quite as frightened and mistrustful as Berwald and Magnus were. That was why Timo had unbound his hands and served as an on-site medic, taking a care of the German's well-being and being soft-spoken and well-mannered.</p>
  <p>Timo admired the Germans. Always had.</p>
  <p>The German finally looked over at Berwald standing in the frame, the dark circles under his eyes a striking contrast to his pale skin and paler eyes. As tired as the rest, but cleaned up a bit. Timo had obviously led him to the bathroom for a quick washing.</p>
  <p>His hair lit up as fiery as Timo's in the light of the lamp.</p>
  <p>Berwald stared at him impassively, and the soldier moved his shoulder this way and that, absently, and finally turned his eyes back to Timo, who he obviously found to be friendlier, muttering something that Berwald did not catch. Timo shifted his weight anxiously. It was obvious they had been speaking for some time. Fraternizing, actually.</p>
  <p>Timo was watching him, nervously. Up to something.</p>
  <p>"What is it?" Berwald finally grumbled, and Timo straightened up, a weak smile upon his face.</p>
  <p>"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something."</p>
  <p>Berwald waited.</p>
  <p>Timo foundered a bit, and began to shift his weight.</p>
  <p>"Well, actually, I guess <em>we </em>wanted to talk to you. That is, ah..."</p>
  <p>The German kept glancing back at him, and Berwald could see the welts around his wrists from where the rope had burned into him, his fingers bruised and looking somewhat stiff from lack of proper blood flow. Watching him, calmly and coolly.</p>
  <p>Finally, Timo took a great, deep breath, and said, quietly, "He's defecting."</p>
  <p>A heavy silence, and Berwald could have dropped then and there from the shock, as his headache exploded into agony.</p>
  <p>Because what were the <em>odds</em>? Of all the soldiers on that train, of the hundreds of them, what were the chances of him grabbing the only one on there that lacked patriotism? What were the chances of him grabbing the only goddamn one that would find himself in Sweden and decide that that seemed like a damn good place to be? One in a million? More?</p>
  <p>He could only stand there, stark still and unable to move.</p>
  <p>The German stared up at him, completely tranquil and looking strangely dignified for someone who had been kicking him in the chest not so long ago, not to mention for someone who had just made the ultimate betrayal. Even the word was ugly in his head. Defector. Same thing as coward. Traitor. Even though it was the enemy that the soldier was defecting from, it almost didn't matter. To anyone who fought in a war, even just on the sidelines like they did, the word alone trailed a long curtain of shame behind it. To defect from anything, anything at all, was a disgrace.</p>
  <p>Surely Timo thought it too, just by the way he had whispered the word.</p>
  <p>Berwald felt himself bristling, and crossed his arms as Timo shuffled his feet. So what? What the hell did Timo want <em>him</em> to do about it?</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>Timo finally opened his mouth, and said, tentatively, "Well. Maybe, well, we were discussing things. Well, kind of. Ah. I don't suppose it would be possible just to, you know. Let him go?"</p>
  <p>Ha.</p>
  <p>"Absolutely not," was his quick response, and Timo's face fell a bit.</p>
  <p>"He's not gonna go there, Berwald. What are <em>we</em> gonna do with him? Why not just let him go?"</p>
  <p>Why not? The reasons were many. Maybe the German was lying. Maybe he had more sinister intentions. Maybe he would reveal their location. Maybe he was a spy. Maybe he really did want to go back to his comrades, but wanted to get the scope on things first. Never trust a traitor.</p>
  <p>"He doesn't wanna go to Norway? Then he'll go to Stockholm instead." At Timo's wide-eyed look, he was quick to add, "Your idea. Remember? You said so; you'll get over it."</p>
  <p>Irritated that Berwald was turning his own words against him, Timo narrowed his eyes and sent him a look of annoyance that bordered on distaste, and it was only because he could not bear for Timo to look at him like that that Berwald relented a little.</p>
  <p>"We can't let him go. Think about what you wanna do with him."</p>
  <p>Timo's lips pursed and his eyes darkened, and when Berwald turned and walked out of the room, he heard footsteps following behind him. For once, Timo chasing after him was not particularly welcome.</p>
  <p>"Berwald! You're really gonna give him off to the other groups? You know what they'll do to him! I mean, yeah I said it, but that was before! He's defecting! He's a refugee now, not a soldier! How can you still wanna hand him off?"</p>
  <p>Head aching and chest stinging, Berwald found himself standing in the living room, staring out of the window as Timo hounded him from behind.</p>
  <p>Never any rest.</p>
  <p>"Listen, we should all sit down and talk about it—"</p>
  <p>"Why are you leavin' him alone when he's not tied up?" he interrupted, harsher than necessary, but Timo's statement was all but reminding him that the last time he had decided something without waiting for others to input, the result had been disastrous.</p>
  <p>Timo had reason to question him.</p>
  <p>"He's not gonna run," Timo retorted, voice thin. "I don't think he can hardly even walk anymore, after all that! We should let him rest up until Lukas gets back, and then talk about it together."</p>
  <p>Leaning forward and pressing his forehead into the window, irritably, Berwald sighed, breath fogging up the glass.</p>
  <p>"Whatcha talkin' about?" came a voice from the side, and when he glanced over, Magnus was standing there, holding a glass in his hand and looking much more amicable than he had earlier. Clean and messy-haired. New clothes. Lukas' safety had obviously been a relief for him, too.</p>
  <p>"Nothing," Berwald said, quickly, reluctant to involve Magnus in anything.</p>
  <p>Although, in this instance, Magnus might have been on his side.</p>
  <p>"We've got a situation," Timo said, simply, and Magnus' cheery look fell.</p>
  <p>"What's wrong <em>now</em>?"</p>
  <p>Before Timo could open his mouth, Berwald pushed off from the glass and turned around to stare at the both of them, grumbling, "Our German has blue eyes all of a sudden."</p>
  <p>Magnus turned to Timo with a look of confusion.</p>
  <p>Timo only stared at Berwald and said, "That's why he was on the back of the train. He was gonna jump."</p>
  <p>The words struck him, and he remembered suddenly when the German had awoken the very first time in a daze and had said, upon seeing his bound hands, 'But I didn't jump!'</p>
  <p>The reason he had been standing there at the back so late, why he had looked caught in the act, why he had leapt through the window only after they had told him they were taking him back, why he had destroyed the car in an effort to go in the opposite direction, why he sat so still now, untied, knowing that they would not take him to Norway.</p>
  <p>Pieces came together.</p>
  <p>Even now, though, Berwald found Timo too compassionate.</p>
  <p>Footsteps behind in the hall, nearly silent, given away only by the creaking of the floorboards, and when they turned, the German was standing in the doorframe, barefoot and wobbling and staring out at them with what almost seemed to be impatience. Like he had been left to wait too long for an answer, and had come to get it himself.</p>
  <p>Magnus' glass slipped from his hand, safe from shattering only because it fell atop the rug, and for a moment, Berwald thought that Magnus was going to rush forward and tackle the soldier again.</p>
  <p>Timo's hand upon his arm kept him still.</p>
  <p>The German took another step into the hall, a scratched hand upon the wall to keep his balance, his paleness gleaming out from the shadows in which he stood. He looked them back and forth in turn.</p>
  <p>"So," he began, deep voice barely audible, "Are you going to let me leave?"</p>
  <p>Straightening his back, Berwald waited a moment, and when nobody decided to speak up, he finally said, "No. You'll be traded off to someone else. I can get good guns for you."</p>
  <p>In all honesty, he might have said it only to irritate Timo, whose hand was still upon Magnus' arm. It worked; Timo sent him a stern, foul look.</p>
  <p>The German's pale face went even paler, and for a moment, he looked almost angry. As though he were somehow a hapless victim in all of this. Blameless and inconvenienced. That was some kind of gall.</p>
  <p>Magnus looked down at Timo, and hissed, "What's goin' on?"</p>
  <p>Timo only shook his head, looking beleaguered.</p>
  <p>"I said I wasn't going to go back over," the German muttered, tiredly, "What more do you want? I just want to stay in Sweden."</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't say a word. Let the German bat his eyes at Timo and declare himself a seeker of asylum. He didn't buy it. Something had to be lurking beneath. Something untrustworthy.</p>
  <p>Magnus stared ahead, apparently dumbfounded, mouth hanging open.</p>
  <p>Timo suddenly rounded on Berwald, like a viper. "Berwald!" he began testily in Swedish, "Weren't we made up by gathering refugees? Didn't you say that you'd take in anyone who needed help? Didn't you? You said anyone could stay, as long as they helped out. Remember?"</p>
  <p>Twitching in agitation, he sent Timo a dark look, and pursed his lips. Yeah, sure, he had said it, but he had not had <em>this </em>kind of refugee in mind. Not a defecting German soldier. Not a trained Wehrmacht. Not a young Nazi. This was different. Dangerous.</p>
  <p>Feeling a bit threatened, he threw back, "You're awfully stuck on 'im! I don't think you'd be so willing if it were a Red sayin' he was tryin' to get away!"</p>
  <p>When Timo opened his mouth and lost his voice, Berwald knew it was true. It was only because it was a German, and not a Soviet, that Timo had been so easily swayed. If it had been a Soviet, Timo would have shot him there where he stood.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't hold it against him; Timo was only human. Nobody was perfect.</p>
  <p>"Just let him stay until we talk about it."</p>
  <p>"Talk about <em>what</em>?" Magnus interjected, clearly agitated at not really knowing what was going on, and he very nearly stomped his foot.</p>
  <p>Timo quickly filled him in, in hushed whispers, as Berwald caught the soldier's eyes from down the hall. The soldier stared back at him, never flinching. Waiting.</p>
  <p>Finally, after being enlightened, Magnus offered an opinion.</p>
  <p>One Berwald hadn't expected.</p>
  <p>"If he wants to stay... Maybe we <em>should</em> talk about it. If he's serious about it, then hell—think of all the shit we could learn. A Wehrmacht helpin' us out? We'd get the upper hand on the Germans. Stuff I could pass along down to the guys in the Jutland."</p>
  <p>Berwald scoffed.</p>
  <p>"Just 'cause he doesn't wanna go back doesn't mean he's gonna help you out against 'em."</p>
  <p>Neatly ignoring him, Magnus looked over Timo's shoulder and said, loudly, "Hey! Hey, you!"</p>
  <p>The German narrowed his eyes and turned up his chin, obviously irate at being addressed so, too proud to acknowledge Magnus' gaze even as he stood beaten and busted before them.</p>
  <p>"Hey you! Hey, hey, you always been a Wehrmacht? You weren't ever in the Kriegsmarine, were ya? Think you can crack some of the navy codes, huh? Seen the Hydra, by any chance?"</p>
  <p>Even as he said it, Magnus began to bristle in excitement. At the possibility of having a trained Wehrmacht offering secrets.</p>
  <p>The German bristled too, but not in excitement, and when he spoke, it was to quickly spit out, "Fuck off."</p>
  <p>Magnus' face fell. Berwald wasn't surprised; that would have been too easy.</p>
  <p>Gave Berwald an excuse, though, to say, "If you don't wanna help out, then why would I keep ya 'round? Guns are worth more than a traitor."</p>
  <p>The German almost looked hurt at that word, brow lowering and eyes darkening.</p>
  <p>"I'm a traitor only to Hitler," the German suddenly proclaimed, rather defensively, "Never to Germany! The sooner the war is over, the sooner he's gone, but I won't turn against my own men. I didn't..." He trailed off, and fell silent.</p>
  <p>Looking lost, suddenly.</p>
  <p>Then he muttered, dismally, "I just wanted to come out here and be normal. I didn't want to have to fight anyone."</p>
  <p>Berwald crossed his arms above his chest.</p>
  <p>The German wanted to stay here because Sweden was neutral. Lands where no war reached. If the German wanted to stay, then he wasn't going to get a free pass.</p>
  <p>"War doesn't stop just 'cause you don't see it. You wanna get rid of him? You gotta fight."</p>
  <p>"Big words for a Swede," the soldier retorted, snippily. "Neutral all your life."</p>
  <p>Magnus took a step forward at the words, no aggression in his stance, and it agitated Berwald that maybe he was losing this battle with Magnus and Timo for more of a popularity contest rather than logic. Magnus would like anyone who questioned Berwald. Timo, standing off to the side and smiling, liked him because he was German.</p>
  <p>Didn't they see the <em>danger </em>in this?</p>
  <p>"Berwald, you know the right thing to do," Timo whispered from the side.</p>
  <p>He felt put on the spot again.</p>
  <p>...this was nothing but trouble. Fuckin' Christ.</p>
  <p>"You got three choices," he finally said, nearly at his wit's end, "You can go to Norway. You can go to another group. Or you can stay. But if you stay, you fight, like the rest of us."</p>
  <p>The German stood still.</p>
  <p>"What's it gonna be?"</p>
  <p>Timo was bouncing up on his heels, in a much better mood now that Berwald had caved in to him. Berwald found that he always caved in to Timo, one way or another. Manipulative son of a bitch.</p>
  <p>Finally, the German bowed his head, looking defeated. Really, the choice was all but obvious.</p>
  <p>A deep, grumbled, "I'll stay."</p>
  <p>The unspoken conclusion was, 'for now!' and even though the German was saying it, Berwald really didn't believe it, and he had a nagging suspicion that the German was only waiting until he was healed up before he just snuck out of the window again and made himself at home in some other little town.</p>
  <p>Timo spoke up, then, and superseded Berwald's authority in a second.</p>
  <p>"Hey, you won't have to fight against any of your own. I go out a lot against the Reds! You can tag along with me if you want. If you really don't wanna fight at all, I'm sure you can do other things to help out!" Looking back at Berwald, Timo added, coolly, "Right?"</p>
  <p>Berwald, overridden and all but a formality, muttered under his breath, and then tried to regain a sense of supremacy, and caught the German's gaze.</p>
  <p>"You wanna stay?" he began, and even though he heard himself <em>saying </em>the words, he still couldn't really believe that this was happening. How the hell was this happening? Really?</p>
  <p>The soldier nodded.</p>
  <p><em>Really</em>?</p>
  <p>There it was, then. The extent of what was happening could barely register in his mind. The eagle offering services to the lion in exchange for safe-haven. Enemies extending hands. Defection.</p>
  <p>Magnus was surprisingly quiet.</p>
  <p>"Well. Can't stay for free," Berwald heard himself grumble. "Ya gotta make yourself useful. What're ya good at?"</p>
  <p>The German looked this way and that, between the three of them, and seemed to be considering and weighing their sincerity. Convinced, perhaps, by Timo's friendly eyes, he finally dropped his shoulders a bit, and said, "Well, I'm pretty good at fixing things. I'm kind of a mechanic. Self-proclaimed. Well, they used to get me to fix cables and shit whenever something around the goulash cannons broke."</p>
  <p>Magnus tilted his head and gave an odd arch of his brow and a twitch of his lips, as though somehow tickled by this statement.</p>
  <p>The German's chin raised as his confidence continued to grow, bolstered by Magnus' non-aggressive stance and the fact that Norway was just a memory, and he turned a very cool eye to the window, adding, "I notice your car has a busted door. I can probably fix that for you. Engine's loud. Dented up pretty bad. Your muffler's about to fall off. I can fix that, too."</p>
  <p>The soldier nodded his head, mostly to himself, and leaned against the wall wearily, sending Berwald a look of complete seriousness.</p>
  <p>"The way you treat that car, I'll have to hang around just to keep it running."</p>
  <p>Berwald stood incredulously still. Silence.</p>
  <p>And then Magnus dissolved into loud, obnoxious laughter, and even though they hadn't <em>really </em>discussed it, that burst of howling laughter was pretty much a guarantee that the German was staying. Magnus only laughed like that at things he liked. Magnus usually got his way. Somehow or another.</p>
  <p>Oh. His head was <em>killing </em>him.</p>
  <p>The four of them stood there, all of them battered and bruised and injured in some way, and the absurdity of it was almost comical. Berwald might have laughed too if he hadn't felt so fuckin' exhausted.</p>
  <p>Timo reached out suddenly, offering his hand to the soldier.</p>
  <p>"I'm Timo! Welcome aboard."</p>
  <p>That wasn't happening. It couldn't be. He was probably knocked out somewhere and just dreaming.</p>
  <p>But then the soldier, limping forward and making careful movements, reached out and took the offered hand. A firm handshake between them. The Finn and the German.</p>
  <p>"I'm Ludwig."</p>
  <p>Waving a hand over his shoulder, Timo said, breezily, "That's Berwald, and that's Magnus."</p>
  <p>Magnus offered a quick wave. Berwald only stood there, dazed and dumb. What was going <em>on</em>? The soldier stared at them. The soldier. Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Ludwig would be trouble, just like Magnus had said.</p>
  <p>Stunned and not all there, Berwald griped, loudly, "The first thing yer doin' is gettin' out of that fuckin' uniform."</p>
  <p>The German only nodded his head, and almost looked relieved.</p>
  <p>Trouble. He could feel it already, as Timo led bruised and wobbly Ludwig back to the bedroom.</p>
  <p>Trouble, trouble, trouble.</p>
  <p>Sure, it was any rebel group's dream to get a man with them that had come from within the very military they were declaring war against, but to keep such a strong and bold soldier in the house with them, loose and to his own devices and around weapons, just seemed like insanity.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was defecting.</p>
  <p>But damn! Nothing but trouble. Complication was a pain in the ass.</p>
  <p>Why was it always him?</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Solitary Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 6</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Solitary Man</strong>
  </p>
  <p>The first word that had come to mind was 'suckers'.</p>
  <p>Buncha idiots.</p>
  <p>Unorganized, untrained, incompetent at best and absolutely clueless at worst, hopeless and inept and no doubt a disgrace to the cause for which they were attempting to fight. Wandering about this way and that and tripping over their own feet and unable to tell up from down and left from right. Idiots, all of them. So he didn't really feel <em>bad</em>, not even a little bit, that he had done everything possible to harm them, even taking those few cheap shots when they had been already down and out.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't feel bad at all.</p>
  <p>His being here was only a temporary thing, and he didn't plan on being particularly friendly during his stay. Let them continue their moronic fumbling. He was skipping town. As soon as he felt ready for a long journey and as soon as he had them off guard, he was going to run while the running was good and slip out quietly in the middle of the night, and he had absolutely every intention of taking one of the cars with him.</p>
  <p>Soon.</p>
  <p>For now, running was not an option. Sore, bruised, spent and cut up and raw and exhausted, mind cloudy and vision blurry and at times feeling confused for no reason, there was no way he would have the capacity to make it out on his own, not after the blow to the head that had concussed him and after pushing himself too far in reckless brawls.</p>
  <p>He needed time to rest.</p>
  <p>They were letting him stay. He would use their kindness to recover, and then he would bid them farewell.</p>
  <p>Now he was laid up in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness and always in pain, and when he did awake, most of the time it was only to a great sense of confusion and panic.</p>
  <p>The concussion had hit him hard.</p>
  <p>Thoughts muddled and disjointed, he usually found himself sitting inert in the same spot, unable and sometimes unwilling to move. With disorientation and confusion came a foul mood and swiftly changing emotions. Sometimes, he became angry and irate for absolutely no good reason at all. Other times, a mute sense of melancholy.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, he just wanted to burst into tears.</p>
  <p>He couldn't <em>think</em>. And always trapped. Trapped. He felt trapped.</p>
  <p>Like a fuckin' mouse.</p>
  <p>The first two days were the hardest.</p>
  <p>He could barely walk, and it was one of the most frustrating feelings imaginable, to be so helpless, to not even be able to stand up without quickly tottering to one side before finally falling over sideways, thanks to his busted equilibrium, and even when he did manage to keep himself square and steady, it was hardly to any gain; his vision was blurred and doubled and the constant ringing in his ears made movement all but impossible.</p>
  <p>Every time he twitched, a burst of blinding light stopped him short.</p>
  <p>Now that his freedom and life were not immediately dangling in the balance, he couldn't seem to find that same something within him that had made movement possible before in such perilous situations. Almost as though now that his mind knew he was in a safe place, it had decided to go into hibernation.</p>
  <p>Stuck in this little house up on the hill, not really knowing <em>where </em>he was or with whom he was with, vulnerable and helpless and wondering why nothing ever worked out like it was supposed to.</p>
  <p>Wondering how he found himself caught by these idiots.</p>
  <p>The two taller ones didn't bother him, not frequently, choosing to keep their distance when possible, and coming inside only for necessary tasks.</p>
  <p>The shortest one was the one that hung around most often, sometimes there when he awoke and sometimes not, but always coming in and out, in and out, in and out. Sometimes he would come in later on with a tray of food, and sometimes he would come in and grab Ludwig's arm and drag him carefully up to his feet and lead him to the bathroom to tend to his wounds.</p>
  <p>Sometimes the other two made brief appearances, poking their heads in just to check and chat with the friendly one.</p>
  <p>And, oh, how Ludwig <em>hated </em>them. Every single one of them.</p>
  <p>The Finn was annoying.</p>
  <p>Always hovering over him, always talking even though he had to <em>know </em>just by the impatient looks Ludwig sent him that his voice was grating upon an already smoldering headache, always around, never giving him a moment's rest, never allowing him the personal space that he desired. Always talking. Always around.</p>
  <p>The Finn was annoying.</p>
  <p>The Dane was insufferable.</p>
  <p>Swaggering around here and there, speaking in that slang-laden accent of the Jutland, sometimes slipping into that quirky Southern dialect that was so mixed with mangled German that it was mostly its own language (one he was familiar and practiced in for the years he and Gilbert had spent in the northern part of the country (one of Gilbert's failed romances)), and hearing that loud, confident voice booming through the halls only made his headache blaze into an unbearable inferno. Add onto that loud mouth a grating leer and a klutzy air, and Ludwig found that the Dane was somehow more goddamn annoying than the Finn, and much worse on his nerves.</p>
  <p>The Dane was insufferable.</p>
  <p>The Swede was surly and disagreeable.</p>
  <p>Possibly the worst of them all, always lurking around in corners with a furrowed brow and sulking off in the shadows and staring out into space, hardly ever talking and always sending him narrow-eyed looks of annoyance, as though this whole thing were somehow <em>his </em>fault! Like <em>he </em>had been the one that had asked to be dragged out of that field in the middle of the night. Like <em>he </em>should be the one that should shoulder the responsibility of this fiasco. Ludwig could barely stand to encounter him, and every time he did (sometimes the weird jerk popped into the room apparently just for the hell of it), he was stared at in a highly unnerving manner, and whenever the big brute <em>did </em>speak, it was in a curt, clipped voice that was exceedingly hard to understand and thick with unfriendliness.</p>
  <p>The Swede was far beyond disagreeable.</p>
  <p>He hated all of them.</p>
  <p>The minutes until escape were dragging.</p>
  <p>Constant pain. Constant shrill ringing in his ears. Constant lethargy and irritability.</p>
  <p>The smallest things made his blood-pressure soar through the roof, and when he had been dragged into the bathroom one morning by the Finn, set down in the tub into warm water and left to relax for a bit, he had done just the opposite; the Finn had promptly turned to the mirror to shave, and every scrape of the razor against his skin seemed like nails down a chalkboard, and Ludwig couldn't help but wish that he had hurt them more when he had had the chance.</p>
  <p>Irrational, sure, but how could he be expected to be in a good mood? He would not forget that many of his companions had died at their hands. Murderers. War criminals.</p>
  <p>His head was <em>always </em>on fire.</p>
  <p>The Swede never smiled.</p>
  <p>Sunrises and sunsets.</p>
  <p>The third and fourth days went a little easier. A little.</p>
  <p>The aggression and hatred began to dull down into a begrudging acceptance as his wounds started to heal up and the fire dulled down into an ache. His chest wasn't as heavy when he came around.</p>
  <p>The double vision had gone.</p>
  <p>When he woke up on a cloudy morning and realized that his shoulder had stopped aching, that stabbing pain no longer tormenting him, suddenly the people around him were considerably less annoying. Easier to digest without being in constant agony. He felt a bit better. His mood improved, just a little.</p>
  <p>They weren't really all <em>that </em>bad; it was just the war that had brought them to do such a horrible thing.</p>
  <p>The Finn was alright.</p>
  <p>Someone he could be at ease with, funny and amicable, and at times he found himself looking forward to seeing the shortest of the group rounding the corner, bringing with him comfort and offering friendship. It was easier to appreciate now that it had been the Finn who had taken his back in the argument with the Swede, and it had been the Finn who had reassured him that everything would turn out alright. His voice was soft and easy on the ears, eyes calm and handsome, and now when he shaved as Ludwig washed his wounds, the sight and sound of it was just a normal occurrence, not a source of aggravation.</p>
  <p>The Finn was alright.</p>
  <p>The Dane was tolerable.</p>
  <p>In doses. Very loud and very <em>fun</em>, too fun for someone such as himself, and yet being around the obnoxious Dane was comforting in its own way, if only because it was almost like having a piece of Gilbert at his side. But, just like with Gilbert, he was best taken in small amounts, and too much time around the Dane was like drinking too much alcohol; great at first, alright in the middle, and sick as a dog towards the end. And speaking of alcohol, it seemed to appear wherever the Dane was, which was also tolerable. A great nerve-calmer, at any rate.</p>
  <p>The Dane was tolerable.</p>
  <p>The Swede was peculiar.</p>
  <p>Walking with heavy steps and graceless strides, coming in every so often and merely nodding his head to himself when he saw that everything was going alright, he just stared off into the distance, always looking as though he were deep in thought and holding conversations with himself up in his head. A dreamer, maybe. Silent and strong, he spoke deeply and lowly on rare occasions, and even though he never made an effort to smile or even just to appear amicable, Ludwig considered that the Swede's mannerisms weren't as unfriendly and anti-social as he had first imagined. Maybe something else, something that bordered more on uncertainty and awkwardness. He couldn't really place it, not quite yet, not when his mind was still thick with the fog and confusion of concussion, his rationalizing gone and emotions still on a hair-trigger, but one thing was certain :</p>
  <p>The Swede was definitely peculiar.</p>
  <p>Time passed.</p>
  <p>He could walk a bit better now that his vision was improving, but his balance was still shot, and it was only the good-grace of the Finn that kept him moving around, mostly up and down the hall and sometimes onto the porch, preventing the muscles in his legs from cramping. He was grateful for it.</p>
  <p>Every passing day, his mood improved. The little things didn't bother him so much anymore.</p>
  <p>The Finn scrounged around the house, and finally came back with clothes that fit him, and he could only suspect that they were the Dane's, who was the only one that matched his height and build. The Swede was too tall and big in the shoulders. The Finn was a bit too short. Lucky for him, he supposed; otherwise, he would have been running around in a tent of the Swede's extra garments.</p>
  <p>New, finely-threaded clothes and a feeling of cleanliness only helped to improve his attitude.</p>
  <p>Time passed a bit more quickly. Escape was always desirable, but not necessarily dire. He could wait a bit.</p>
  <p>The fifth and sixth days went smooth and easy.</p>
  <p>His constant headache began to subside as his brain slowly recovered from the trauma of concussion. The shrill ringing in his ears faded. The bright lights vanished. The lethargy and irritability dissipated. He felt more like himself. Calm and steady, not giving in to those swiftly shifting rages and urges to cry or just go berserk, and with every hour it seemed that his thoughts were clearer.</p>
  <p>He was grateful for that.</p>
  <p>The air was not so tense, and even though he regretted the loss of brave soldiers, he hadn't really <em>known </em>any of them. Not really. (An awful thought, but there it was.)</p>
  <p>And on the seventh day, after the first real night's sleep, he woke up and realized that he could stand without wavering. His balance had returned. With it came clear-headedness, rationality, and a much more amicable feeling. Those around him were no longer obstacles as much as they were just <em>there</em>.</p>
  <p>The Finn was friendly and pleasant.</p>
  <p>A companion.</p>
  <p>Timo was good-natured and always smiling, always quick to reassure and quick to offer explanations and friendly conversation, always hovering over and making sure that everything was healing up alright. Ludwig found that he was easy on not only the ears, but nerves and anxiety as well, and whenever Timo was near, he felt a little more at ease, no doubt strengthened by Timo's firm fingers prodding over him every few hours and tending to his cuts and bruises. Timo's crassness and constant swearing in that pretty voice only made him more charming, and Ludwig looked forward to seeing him.</p>
  <p>Gilbert wasn't here to fuss over him anymore.</p>
  <p>Timo could do it.</p>
  <p>The Dane was charismatic and funny.</p>
  <p>A charmer.</p>
  <p>Magnus was witty and confident and the life of the party, a quality that he did not value in himself, but <em>god </em>did he miss it from Gilbert, and sometimes Magnus helped him about and showed him around when Timo was out or unavailable, and whenever he did, he was quick to lean in to Ludwig's side and test out jokes and puns. And when Ludwig shook his head in exasperation, the Dane seemed to consider that one a success and broke into a grand smile. And after that, Magnus was content to babble away, even though Ludwig did not offer input. It didn't matter; Magnus, with his easy smile and friendly hands, could be an effective cure to his gloominess when his mood took one of those sometimes random nose-dives.</p>
  <p>Gilbert couldn't cheer him up anymore.</p>
  <p>Magnus could do it.</p>
  <p>And the Swede was just a gentle giant.</p>
  <p>A sentinel.</p>
  <p>When things were calm, at least.</p>
  <p>Berwald was quiet and collected and cool-headed, usually standing off to the side with crossed arms and observing the surroundings with a sharp, critical eye, keeping a close watch on everything and appearing generally cautious. His gaze, whenever it fell on Ludwig, was fleeting, as though he were still trying to get used to <em>that </em>part of the scenery. Ludwig only stared back when he had to, and stayed silent. The looks and tones that his cloudy mind had interpreted as hostility and spitefulness were now recognized by a clear head as simple awkwardness. Not unfriendliness. Just inelegance.</p>
  <p>Berwald was awkward and graceless, but not as disagreeable as Ludwig had first thought. Maybe not such a bad guy. Weird, though. Kind of intimidating. Imposing. Always lost up in his head. Whenever the others spoke to him, he usually just nodded. When he decided to open his mouth and give a verbal response, his words were short, clipped, and very stiff, like his throat was threatening to clench up on him, making his already deep voice seem gruff and threatening.</p>
  <p>But he didn't <em>seem</em> malicious.</p>
  <p>It had been a surprise to find that, the one time that it had been Berwald's turn to help Ludwig up out of the bed and down the hall, in a normal occasion the Swede's hands were strangely gentle for one so big and surly. A farmer's hands.</p>
  <p>Berwald was increasingly peculiar.</p>
  <p>For now, Ludwig's priority was on regaining his independence rather than the oddities of his new companions.</p>
  <p>Small steps. One thing at a time.</p>
  <p>The first day that he had been able to wander around on his own had been such a wonderful relief that he had nearly (<em>nearly</em>—there was still a thing called pride) slung an arm around Timo's shoulder to drag him all over just to prove that he could. Walking straight had never felt so good. Certainly not a thing to be taken for granted, not after all of that, and by god, he would never be blasé about simple things again.</p>
  <p>With newfound prowess, he observed his surroundings for the first time with clarity. Pretty good scenery, from what he could see so far.</p>
  <p>Night faded.</p>
  <p>Day number eight. Still holding strong.</p>
  <p>He pulled himself out of bed at the first light of dawn, before Timo had even come down to check on him. He felt a bit strange, sleeping in Timo's bed, but they had put him here, so, in his mind, it was really <em>his </em>room now, and he was longing to get out of <em>his </em>room and go exploring and figure out exactly where the fuck he was.</p>
  <p>And so, with bare feet and only a mild headache, he did.</p>
  <p>Creeping as silently as possible out of the room and down the hall, dressed in Magnus' clothes and smelling like strong cologne and Jäger because of them, he squinted his eyes in the dim, pale light and felt his way here and there as he tried his best not to awaken those around him.</p>
  <p>He was only being nosy. Now was not the time to run. When the opportunity presented itself, it would be obvious. And right now, there was no adrenaline.</p>
  <p>Just observation.</p>
  <p>The house was cold, and quiet, the windows frosted as the morning sun struggled to break through the curtains, and with the chilly air and the smell of wood and snow came a sense of well-being, and being in the unusually-scented clothes of a stranger was somehow comforting.</p>
  <p>Mellow and lethargic, he fell to a halt in the room that opened up at the end of the hall, a living room of sorts, and with thumbs looped in his pockets, he sat down on the tiny sofa that sat in the corner, fell over onto his side, and heaved a sigh of relief as he huddled alone in the darkness. It wasn't so bad. Pretty little house. The air was nice. Country air.</p>
  <p>For now, he could handle this. Not so bad at all.</p>
  <p>He closed his eyes.</p>
  <p>The light coming from behind the frosty windows grew steadily brighter as his mind wandered, and he must have nodded off at some point in time, for when there was a noise at his side, he started upright, and realized that it was already bright inside.</p>
  <p>The sun had risen.</p>
  <p>And he also realized that someone else was in the room.</p>
  <p>Wrenching his head to the left, he saw a figure looming over him, and bolted up in alarm, pulling his knees upward in a moment in insecurity. Insecurity, it seemed, was an easy thing to feel when it was Berwald staring down at you.</p>
  <p>An awkward moment, as he sat there in rather thin clothes in the chilly living room, arms wrapped around his legs as he stared up at Berwald, who stood there silently in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest and appearing to be wide awake, despite the clock above that clearly read seven. They stared at each other, as he shifted this way and that in agitation and Berwald placed and replaced his footing in a suffocating moment of almost unspeakable awkwardness, and finally, Berwald cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.</p>
  <p>More silence.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, knowing that his security depended for now on the good graces and moods of Berwald (the apparently tentative leader of sorts of these men), forced himself to recover, and finally he managed to utter a weak, lame, "Well. You get up early, too."</p>
  <p>Berwald stood still, and then shrugged a shoulder, before finally uttering, slowly and carefully, "No. Just makin' sure you hadn't run off."</p>
  <p>It took his mind a second to translate and comprehend Berwald's thick accent, and when he finally did, he almost snorted. Ah. So, Berwald's wide awake appearance was only from adrenaline, no doubt at having poked his head in the bedroom only to find it empty.</p>
  <p>Careful movements were needed now. If danger or conniving were sensed, then he would probably have a gun pressed into his head again. And three times was <em>not </em>a charm.</p>
  <p>With equal cautiousness, Ludwig held out his hands non-threateningly and said, coolly, "Here I am."</p>
  <p>Berwald nodded, once. And then he just stood there for a moment, as though contemplating speaking, but in the end he only tucked his hands in his pockets and walked off, passing almost soundlessly through the front door and outside. Ludwig stared at the closed door, and let his knees lower slowly down once he was alone.</p>
  <p>Weirdo.</p>
  <p>What a damn place he had fallen into.</p>
  <p>Muttering under his breath and still squirming in agitation, he crossed his arms and collapsed back into the sofa, glowering at the door long after it was shut and trying to ignore the pang of hunger in his stomach.</p>
  <p>The sun rose ever higher, the clock ticked on, and when it was nearly ten, the later risers decided to haul themselves out of bed and wander into sight. Timo, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his fingers and stifling yawns, came out first, staggering down the hall and walking straight off into the kitchen without even seeing Ludwig sitting there on the sofa in the corner. Magnus, tumbling down the stairs and hair sticking up, was soon to follow, following Timo's invisible trail.</p>
  <p>Chatting from within. Ludwig sat still, agitation ever growing, knowing that he was not considered a part of the 'group' enough to really move about here on his own. He probably should have just stayed in bed.</p>
  <p>The smell of coffee came out shortly after, and it was with perhaps irrational stubbornness that he sat completely still, arms crossed and staring at the floor and very close to raising his voice and shouting, 'Hey, I'm out here, you jerks'.</p>
  <p>In the end, he said nothing. Coming off as needlessly aggressive might not have gone over well. He couldn't afford to go back to square one with these men.</p>
  <p>Oh, god, he wanted to get the hell <em>out </em>of here. Sitting still was killing him.</p>
  <p>As he twitched, restless, the front door creaked open, and in came Berwald, hair and shirt damp and cheeks red from exertion. Sparing Ludwig only a quick glance, he reached down and removed his muddy boots, leaving them on the mat so as not to trail dirt all over the floorboards, and took a silent step forward.</p>
  <p>The smell of timber was evident.</p>
  <p>Ludwig considered uttering a greeting. None came out.</p>
  <p>Berwald eyed him, silently, shifting his weight on socked feet, and then, with a tilted head, disappeared into the kitchen without a word.</p>
  <p>The agitation exploded into frustration as he was successfully ignored and passed by yet again. It was irrational, certainly, and no doubt a fit of ego, but considering the circumstances he didn't really feel like he should be taken so lightly and observed as an outsider to be left out on the sidelines. <em>They </em>had been the ones that had twisted his arm to stay here with threats and allusions, and by god, they were going to lie in that bed that they had made.</p>
  <p>He was not here by own choice. He owed them nothing. A 'hello' in the morning would have been nice. At <em>least</em>.</p>
  <p>His head hurt.</p>
  <p>And just when he had finally pulled himself up to his feet, arms rigid at his sides and ready to cause a ruckus, Berwald came out, tall and broad-shouldered and wiping sweat from his brow, and every intention of hell-raising quickly died down into anxiety. Certainly, another scuffle with Berwald was undesirable.</p>
  <p>Berwald stared at him, standing there, and then took a step forward. A mug was held out. Ludwig stared down at it, dumbly.</p>
  <p>"Here," Berwald said, in a clipped, awkward tone, "You drink coffee?"</p>
  <p>It took a second for his hands to react, lingering effects of the concussion upon his reflexes, and when he finally took the mug into his palms, the anxiety turned into a bit of guilt. He was still overreacting to little things.</p>
  <p>"Thanks," he finally uttered, and after a moment of stillness, Berwald inclined his head in acknowledgement, gaze fixed and alarmingly intense. Ludwig met it, although he wasn't sure if he was really able to match it, despite a given effort.</p>
  <p>Didn't this big oaf ever smile? Maybe not.</p>
  <p>"Yer head feel better?"</p>
  <p>He could only nod, as Berwald stared him down.</p>
  <p>"Can ya walk okay?"</p>
  <p>He nodded again.</p>
  <p>"Good. After breakfast, you can come help me outside."</p>
  <p>An awkward silence (and where the hell was that breakfast at?), and, without really thinking about what he was doing, he had said, "I'd rather start on the car."</p>
  <p>As soon as he had said it, he felt the twinge of alarm, because he was not in any position here to say what could and could not be done, and it wasn't wise to tell Berwald he was going to do something other than what had been directed.</p>
  <p>Berwald only gave a deep, 'hm', and then shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>"Alright."</p>
  <p>Maybe he looked a bit pale or his hand was shaking, or maybe it was just a hunch, but Berwald took a step back to observe, and then added, "There's some medicine in the kitchen, if your head's ringin'."</p>
  <p>More than ringing.</p>
  <p>"Thanks."</p>
  <p>When Berwald ambled off again outside, taking his strange speech with him, Ludwig realized that, for all of him, Berwald was actually pretty easy to deal with. That was a relief.</p>
  <p>Before he could move, Timo was standing in the kitchen doorframe, and waved a hand in the air to get his attention.</p>
  <p>"Ah," Timo began, somewhat airily, "you didn't have to just sit there, you know? You can...get <em>up</em>. And walk around. You know."</p>
  <p>For a moment, Ludwig felt ridiculous.</p>
  <p>Knowing that his cheeks were tinting, he muttered something under his breath and took a step forward, and when Timo pulled him into the kitchen and he was greeted loudly by Magnus, he felt all the more ridiculous.</p>
  <p>Maybe a calming down was in order. While he was here, at least, he could try to take it easy. Overreaction to small details had always been a problem. Time to work on it a little, now that he was in place where war was not imminent.</p>
  <p>When Magnus engaged him in conversation, he responded politely when it was needed, and tried to settle. What was the point of riling himself up?</p>
  <p>By the time the morning passed into afternoon and he had parted ways with Timo and Magnus to wander outdoors, he felt a little better. It was pretty outside. White with snow, a clear blue sky, pines as far as the eye could see, mountains jutting up in every direction, and a pleasant smell of tall grass and wood.</p>
  <p>A distance thunking in the distance was no doubt Berwald cutting wood into manageable pieces.</p>
  <p>Taking heart in a little time to explore, Ludwig was quick to look over either shoulder, more of habit than anything else, and when he was sure that Timo and Magnus were out of sight inside and that Berwald was far away and distracted, he stepped off down from the porch and into the snow.</p>
  <p>A walk outside would do his head good.</p>
  <p>As he wandered, it struck him how truly isolated this place really was. No other homes were even visible from where they were, no neighbors, and indeed, the only proof that they were even <em>there </em>at all were mere plumes of chimney smoke here and there on the horizon. No sounds of people. Just quiet.</p>
  <p>He was in the middle of nowhere. Not an ideal circumstance for fleeing, but that would just have to be worked around. He would have to make sure, one way or another, that the car was full of gas before he slunk away. This place was not inescapable; he would just have to be careful of his actions and wording in the days leading up to it.</p>
  <p>He passed the car by, having little interest in tinkering with it right now. He wanted to get his bearings first.</p>
  <p>Outside the house, little chairs and benches and tables stood out against the snow, apparently there for decoration more than usefulness. Maybe making picnic tables was really all there was to do out here.</p>
  <p>How...quaint.</p>
  <p>Gilbert would keel over dead out here.</p>
  <p>For a moment, that thought almost made him smile. It quickly fell.</p>
  <p>Oh, Gilbert.</p>
  <p>It was better not to think of Gilbert, who was probably still unaware that anything strange had occurred, and was drinking with his comrades in France and boasting that his little brother was turning out just <em>like </em>him. Oh. Gilbert would never forgive him. It would be for the best when he was labeled as dead in the train wreckage and Gilbert got the news either by ear or letter, and it hurt a bit less to know that Gilbert would burst into tears of despair thinking he was dead rather than spit on the ground because he had defected.</p>
  <p>He was selfish.</p>
  <p>Gilbert would get over it, in time. And maybe it would even help Gilbert, somehow, by pulling back his recklessness because he had seen first-hand that they were not, after all, invincible and endlessly lucky. The death of one brother could be the salvation of the other. It was better to imagine that some kind of good could come from this for Gilbert. No; he <em>needed</em> to imagine that, because otherwise <em>he </em>would probably be the one to burst into tears. Who had ever known it would come to this? He had enjoyed the being the pride and joy of Gilbert's life, not the dirty, nameless secret. That's what he would be if he ever showed his face again.</p>
  <p>An out of place object caught his eye and drew him from his mind. Looking up, he found himself a fair walk from the house above, close to the forest's edge and in a low, shadowed area mostly hidden from sight.</p>
  <p>But it wasn't empty here. A little shed stood out in the back, hidden behind an outcrop of trees and blanketed in snow, tucked carefully back and out of sight. And even though he knew that he really <em>shouldn't</em>, he was too nosy for his own good, and seeing what was inside of it was absolutely necessary. He masked his curiosity with the excuse that, perhaps, something useful was inside with which he could to start working on the car. In case he was caught.</p>
  <p>Creeping through the snow and pushing aside low-hanging pine branches, he snuck forward, and when he approached, the pristine smell of snow was sharpened with something acrid; motor-oil, maybe.</p>
  <p>He reached out.</p>
  <p>When he pushed the wooden door, the creaking far too loud in the silent forest, he realized immediately that he had gone from simple nosiness more into the 'curiosity killed the cat' territory.</p>
  <p>The shed was filled with guns. The smell hadn't been motor-oil. Gunpowder.</p>
  <p>His eyes, adjusting to the darkness within, had time to take in racks upon the wall, built skillfully and polished, and each of them held rifles upon rifles, and in the corner sat bags, probably full of ammunition, another rack on the other side held handguns, gleaming in the dim light, and he knew now that he should <em>not </em>have been in here—</p>
  <p>A hand fell upon his shoulder.</p>
  <p>Jumping in alarm and whipping around so quickly that he nearly fell backwards, he was already mentally preparing what words of defense he would sputter, but when his gaze focused, he realized that that would not be necessary.</p>
  <p>It was just Timo. Not Berwald.</p>
  <p>Smiling, Timo looked about, and finally caught his eye. Ludwig did not miss the unease.</p>
  <p>"I see you discovered our stash!"</p>
  <p>Knowing that Timo had been trailing him, and knowing that it was because, despite his friendliness, Timo did not <em>trust</em> him, Ludwig could only play it honestly and make himself as loose and easy as possible.</p>
  <p>"Just lookin' around," he said, quickly, and Timo shifted his weight.</p>
  <p>"You should have said so," he responded, carefully. "I would have shown you around."</p>
  <p>A moment of silence.</p>
  <p>Timo had every right to be nervous. A Wehrmacht, who had already jumped into violent altercations with them, standing here in such an isolated spot with too many guns to count and already having professed an extreme desire to get away at any cost? Not a good situation.</p>
  <p>Trying to wave it off, Ludwig gave a weak laugh, and said, "Some collection! You guys are really, ah, <em>prepared</em>, huh?"</p>
  <p>Finally, seeing his anxious, shuffling feet, Timo's smile became a real one.</p>
  <p>"Yeah. Just in case. You never know!"</p>
  <p>Apparently feeling that there wasn't really a threat after all, Timo pushed gently past him and walked inside.</p>
  <p>"Come here, you wanna look at them?"</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>Timo, propping the door open to let in the light, pointed out one on the left and said, "That's what we use most of the time, the Krags. Magnus likes those more than anything else. They're pretty easy to find all over. A lot of them get smuggled in from Norway."</p>
  <p>As he nodded his head and let Timo blabber away, Ludwig couldn't help but be surprised that these idiots really had so many goddamn guns.</p>
  <p>Their fiasco earlier had not prepared him for a collection of this size. And certainly not so much ammunition. How often did they go out? The churning of his stomach was ruining the thrill of seeing the guns. Ah, Timo, that lyin' little jerk. Hadn't he said it 'wouldn't be so bad'? These guns painted a different picture of what life was really like amongst rebels.</p>
  <p>"We don't really use these much."</p>
  <p>Raising his head, he saw that Timo was poking over the handguns, contemplatively.</p>
  <p>"We try not to get so close that we actually need them."</p>
  <p>Well, <em>that </em>was comforting.</p>
  <p>"How long have you been doing this?"</p>
  <p>Timo spared him a glance, and after a moment of hesitation, he said, "About a year for me, now. Haven't been home in a while."</p>
  <p>There was a passing of darkness across Timo's face, but it fled as quickly as it had come, and Timo swiftly moved on with a wave of his hand, prattling on. Ludwig tried to pay attention, but found his mind wandering. He might nick a few rifles when he finally made his escape, now that he knew where they were.</p>
  <p>"Do you like the sub-machines?"</p>
  <p>Absently, he shook his head.</p>
  <p>As Timo smiled away, Ludwig found himself more attracted to the longer rifles, sitting up high on the wall above them. Models that he was more comfortable with, at any rate, and, with an observing eye, he said, thoughtfully, "I like <em>those</em>. That's good steel. Swedish, huh?"</p>
  <p>"Yup," Timo answered. "Mausers. Good guns."</p>
  <p>Timo moved about at his side, and then stopped short in front of a different rack.</p>
  <p>"This is Berwald's favorite," he said easily, as he patted a rifle candidly, and when Ludwig turned to look at it, he wasn't really all that surprised at the large scope and the careful making. A Gewehr.</p>
  <p>Of course slow, steady Berwald would favor the rifle of a sniper rather than the quick-fire guns that Magnus liked. A sentiment he could share in.</p>
  <p>"You'd like this one too," Timo added. "It's got a German scope. AJACK."</p>
  <p>Ludwig smiled, and placed a hand on his hip. Maybe they weren't so clueless, after all.</p>
  <p>"You've got all kinds of things."</p>
  <p>Timo burst into a great, sunny smile then, and moved on to another rack.</p>
  <p>"This is all my stuff," he said, quite proudly, and Ludwig knew quickly why.</p>
  <p>They were all Soviet guns. No doubt Timo's little trophy section.</p>
  <p>"This is <em>my </em>favorite," Timo said, as he took one from the wall, "PPD!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig watched as he looked it over with a wide smile and bright eyes, and it was somehow strange to see friendly Timo holding a Soviet sub-machine gun within surprisingly sure hands and to know that the easy-going, pretty-voiced Finn had probably killed the gun's previous owner. A little surreal, actually. Timo was a normal-looking guy, maybe more handsome than a good majority, with such a nice voice, and it was strange to see him so proud of the memories of men he had murdered.</p>
  <p>This was an impressive collection, certainly. And Ludwig realized, with a twinge of unease, that maybe these blithering idiots were more dangerous than they had first appeared, and maybe he was inside the lion's den rather than the clown car.</p>
  <p>An unnerving thought.</p>
  <p>Now, as Timo smiled over at him and chatted away, he sharpened his ears and eyes and paid <em>attention</em>, because cute Timo was suddenly nothing to be played around with, and knowing that the one he had felt the least threatened by could very well take out a gun and shoot him at any point was a very harsh wake-up call.</p>
  <p>"...don't you?"</p>
  <p>He started, and turned to Timo with a burst of adrenaline.</p>
  <p>"What was that?" he was quick to respond, and Timo, his pale hand lying down atop one of the rifles, sent Ludwig a look of amusement.</p>
  <p>"I said, you know how to use all of these, don't you? I mean, I'm sure you do!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig could only nod, keeping his eyes firmly upon Timo's hand.</p>
  <p>...he would have to watch his step around here.</p>
  <p>Friendly Timo was a baby-faced killer. Charming Magnus was a stone-cold executioner. And big, gentle-handed Berwald was a silent assassin. He would take them more seriously, from now on.</p>
  <p>Having been shown everything inside the shed, Timo led him out, and he followed without question, keeping alert and aware.</p>
  <p>Timo saw his tense shoulders and clumsy steps, and smiled over at him. "So," he began, airily, "How are you feeling here so far? I bet you're pretty homesick, huh?"</p>
  <p>A moment's pause, and then Ludwig said, simply, "Not really."</p>
  <p>Timo only smiled.</p>
  <p>"That's just because it's still a new place. Give it time. It'll hit you soon."</p>
  <p>Ludwig furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, but stayed wisely silent, and finally shrugged a shoulder. Well, he wouldn't know, after all. He had never been away from home. Maybe it was still the rush of adventure keeping him from feeling the gnawing of homesickness. Or maybe it was because he was trying so damn hard not to think about it.</p>
  <p>"Well," he finally muttered, "I guess it's not so bad here."</p>
  <p>Timo tucked his hands in his pockets.</p>
  <p>"It's not! I really think you'll like it out here, if you give it a chance." Sending him a cool look, Timo added, "It's really hard to start out on your own in a new place. I'd never have made it here if it hadn't been for Berwald. Can't go it alone, you know."</p>
  <p>Ludwig, feeling another rush of anxiety, only smiled.</p>
  <p>Ah, Timo. How had he known what he had been thinking?</p>
  <p>"Besides," Timo chirped, "who wants to be alone? I'd rather be around people than out somewhere by myself where I didn't know anybody."</p>
  <p>He realized that Timo, having been unnerved at first by seeing him around the guns, was trying to keep him very thoroughly engaged and on their side. Maybe it was working. A little.</p>
  <p>"Do you speak Swedish?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig shook his head.</p>
  <p>The house was in sight. Berwald was up above, carrying a stack of firewood towards the porch. Quaint.</p>
  <p>"Man!" Timo said, breezily, "It's a good thing we picked you up after all! Kinda hard to find a place to live in a country whose language you don't even speak, don't you think?"</p>
  <p>If Berwald hadn't been in sight, Ludwig might have said, 'Why don't you just rub it in a little more, you son of a bitch?'</p>
  <p>Instead, he only gave a strained, "Ha."</p>
  <p>Timo's words were a considerable blow to his confidence, as they had no doubt intended to be. It was unfortunate that everything Timo said was true. But, god, the thought of <em>having </em>to stay here and to rely upon them was the worst thing imaginable. To be dependent on strangers.</p>
  <p>The afternoon dragged on. Despite the agitation, his mood wasn't bad.</p>
  <p>Lunch came and went, and when the sun was at its highest point, he observed an interesting ritual that occurred in the midst of this crushing, monotonous normalcy.</p>
  <p>They all gathered together late in the afternoon to clean and oil the other guns that they kept within the house.</p>
  <p>He certainly admired their dedication, but on the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder if such an act was really necessary. They didn't seem to put themselves in danger so frequently that the guns needed daily maintenance. Maybe this was their version of bonding time.</p>
  <p>They sat there in the living room, Magnus cross-legged on the floor and Berwald hunched over the coffee table, and Timo sat off in the hall, where he was still within sight of the others. Each of them had their own pile of guns, which they diligently took apart and cleaned and pieced back together.</p>
  <p>Ludwig leaned back against the wall, in between Magnus and Timo, and felt very thoroughly out of place as they worked.</p>
  <p>They chatted lowly amongst themselves in whatever language they used. Swedish or Danish; he couldn't really tell. They were pretty much the same anyway, and it was a little frustrating to grasp a few words here and there but not be able to put them together into coherent sentences, and his knowledge of the South Jutland dialect was of absolutely no help.</p>
  <p>He stayed still and silent, and only watched.</p>
  <p>Every so often, Magnus would say something loudly and burst into laughter, and then reach out and gently punch Ludwig's leg, as he cried in German, "Right?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig only stared down at him with a furrowed brow of annoyance. Like he had understood him at all. Big dummy. Berwald looked up in equal annoyance in these instances, and it was clear that he did not like his work interrupted. Another sentiment Ludwig could share.</p>
  <p>They took surprising care in their thoroughness, and as the hours ticked by, Ludwig's patience began to wane. Being a spectator was not quite as enthralling as being a participant, at least not in this instance, and he was glad when Berwald finished first and pulled himself up to his feet, gathering up his rifles and walking carefully past the others to put them away in the cabinet that stood against the wall.</p>
  <p>As he passed, Berwald caught his eye, and after a hesitation, said, mostly to himself, "Guess you'll need one, too."</p>
  <p>A statement not really meant to be answered, but he did anyway.</p>
  <p>"I'll take one of those Gewehr."</p>
  <p>Down below, Magnus snorted, and muttered, casually, "Sniper? Ha. Looks like we got another Berwald!"</p>
  <p>Berwald's eyes narrowed, and Ludwig could only wonder if that was meant as an insult rather than a compliment. Timo's eye-roll was an indicator of the former, and Ludwig shifted his weight awkwardly, caught in between them and feeling more out of place than ever.</p>
  <p>Once the rest of the guns were safely away, Timo grabbed a fistful of Magnus' shirt, and pulled him to his feet, dragging him quickly towards the kitchen. As they went by, Magnus sent him a cheeky look, and called back, "You look really good in my clothes!"</p>
  <p>Berwald's hands twitched a bit, and Ludwig could only say, politely, "They're nice."</p>
  <p>They disappeared from sight, and Ludwig was left alone with Berwald.</p>
  <p>And everything was quiet.</p>
  <p>He glanced over at silent Berwald, standing there, and cleared his throat a bit.</p>
  <p>"So," he finally asked, when Berwald's fixed gaze became a little too much, "What do you guys do here? Is this like your...hideout? Or do you really live here? Do you work in town?"</p>
  <p>A weak attempt at conversation. Better than this suffocating silence.</p>
  <p>Berwald stared at him for a second, and then dropped his shoulders, a little less intense now that Magnus was no longer in sight.</p>
  <p>"Well," he began, slowly, "Guess we live here now. Good place. We do a little bit here 'n there. Magnus messes with cars around town sometimes. Mostly we make tables, chairs, things like that. Timo and Magnus go down to the cities to sell 'em."</p>
  <p>For a second, Ludwig almost laughed. Until he realized that Berwald was completely serious.</p>
  <p>Well. He <em>had </em>wanted something normal. But damn, was this ever.</p>
  <p>"You know how to woodwork?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig shook his head.</p>
  <p>Berwald observed him, and then said, simply, "You'll learn."</p>
  <p>The near absurdity of it all forced him to smile, and he said, "Well, I'll try!"</p>
  <p>Even if he didn't really plan on it.</p>
  <p>Berwald nodded, and turned his eyes to the window.</p>
  <p>"How's the car going?"</p>
  <p>"Oh. I didn't get around to it. I was...distracted."</p>
  <p>"Oh."</p>
  <p>A loud bark of laughter from the kitchen drew Berwald's attention, and as Timo and Magnus giggled to each other, the frown on his face was apparent. When it came to Magnus, perhaps, Berwald wasn't quite as easy to deal with as first imagined. Clashing egos and personalities could be a problem here.</p>
  <p>Finally, Berwald heaved a sigh and stalked off up the stairs, leaving Ludwig to linger down below.</p>
  <p>Yet again.</p>
  <p>Alone, he fell back onto the sofa, flipping onto his side in a mimic of the morning, and drifted off, considering them.</p>
  <p>He observed new things about them every day.</p>
  <p>Timo was not always gentle and friendly, and it had been a surprise to learn that he actually had a rather short and rather nasty temper and that (according to Magnus) a pretty mean punch. And (according to Magnus) when he went out against the Soviets, he did so without fear and with leadership, always mindful of those with him and quick to defend them if it came to the wire.</p>
  <p>Magnus always seemed to be striving to be center of attention, all day, every day. It didn't seem to matter to whom, or whether good or bad; he seemed to be equally pleased at cracking a bad joke to Timo as he was puffing out his chest and antagonizing Berwald. And while Magnus had nothing but praise for Timo, the feelings didn't seem to extend to Berwald, and when Magnus was in the same room with him, the charming air of a loafer turned into a somewhat intimidating belligerence and a confidence that bordered on over-compensation. Magnus tried too hard to appear more capable and dominant than Berwald, although for what purposes Ludwig had yet to uncover.</p>
  <p>Berwald was always <em>quiet</em>. He communicated with looks and actions. When he did speak, his words were clumsy and stiff and awkward, like he had never really <em>spoken </em>to anyone before. Like he had never been around people. Maybe he had grown up in a little place like this where neighbors were few and far between. Or maybe Swedes were just like that.</p>
  <p>Strange.</p>
  <p>It was a little imposing at times, and certainly unnerving, and yet for all the Swede's brutish movements and thick speech and awkward air, it was pretty easy for Ludwig to remind himself that there didn't really seem to be any harm in him. He usually just stood there, staring. Big and harmless. At least to those he called friends, at any rate. Not to be played around with if you were on his bad side. A <em>very</em> bad side, because even though he sent Magnus looks that could have killed a dog, he never lashed out physically. He was socially incompetent, made all the more obvious by being with Timo and Magnus, so confident and friendly and loud, and Ludwig couldn't help but feel a little sympathy towards him, because he knew what it felt like to be the quiet, awkward one around a bunch of comedians and charmers.</p>
  <p>Gilbert had overshadowed him. Berwald was overshadowed by the others. He could understand that.</p>
  <p>He learned new things about them every day, but they were still strangers.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus were funny, but they didn't really confide in him. Berwald spoke to him, but never smiled. This was a household of shaky alliances at best. These men were held together by circumstance and necessity, not friendship.</p>
  <p>Well, he fit right in, then, didn't he?</p>
  <p>The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and the next morning came as cool and calm as the last. Once again, he found himself awake before everyone else. This time, Berwald must not have found him as much of a flight risk, for the clock ticked on by, and no one ever came out.</p>
  <p>He made himself at home in the kitchen, learning where things were at and what was available. Not because he was planning on staying, or anything. Just to know.</p>
  <p>...well, Timo had offered a valid point. It would be hard to set off on his own out here. Granted, he really hadn't planned this all too well. It had really been jump, tuck, and roll, and anything after had been meant to be winged, at best. A leap before you look kinda thing.</p>
  <p>He made coffee and ransacked the cabinets, and was relieved to at least find basic commodities. He had been a little worried. But at least they had flour and eggs. And when he took it upon himself to make breakfast, it was certainly <em>not </em>a peace-offering because he planned on staying. It was just a nice thing to do for those who had refrained from shooting him, and who had offered him a place to stay. Maybe they'd twisted his arm about it, sure, but hey—he wasn't in Norway.</p>
  <p>And when he knocked on each of their doors and all but forced them out of their beds at seven o'clock sharp, it <em>wasn't</em> because he was trying to insert himself into place and create a sense of belonging and authority because he was planning on staying. It was just...</p>
  <p>Well.</p>
  <p>If he had been bested by them thrice, then they could at least wake up at an appropriate hour and make him feel a little better for it. Being taken down by three slow-moving, carefree, blithe wanderers was not good on his ego. Timo and Berwald came down rather obediently. Magnus did not, and it had taken three separate rounds of increasingly persistent door-knocking to finally drag him onto his feet, and the trip down the stairs nearly killed him for his clumsy steps.</p>
  <p>When they all sat there at the table, he tried to use their sleepiness to his advantage and assert himself a little.</p>
  <p>But not because he was planning on staying.</p>
  <p>"Is it alright for me to make breakfast? I was up."</p>
  <p>Bleary-eyed and yawning, Timo hung above his coffee and rasped, sleepily, "Ah, that was nice of you! You sure do get up <em>early</em>, though."</p>
  <p>Berwald, staring with lidded eyes down at his plate, nodded his head in agreement as he tapped absently away with his fork.</p>
  <p>Magnus rubbed at his eyes and muttered, "Sure do."</p>
  <p>Satisfied, Ludwig leaned back into his seat, and watched them in their most vulnerable moments, as they struggled against sleep, quiet and subdued, and he was glad for it. It made him feel a bit less insecure.</p>
  <p>Seeing Berwald's fork slip from his fingers and onto the floor and him hitting his head on the table as he went to retrieve it was well worth it.</p>
  <p>It was interesting, in a way, seeing them come around into consciousness and watching their faces fall into place. To get to know them a little.</p>
  <p>Luckily, Magnus and Berwald seemed to keep their rivalry under the table, so to speak, at meal times. He was grateful for that; who wanted to eat with an argument next to their ear?</p>
  <p>Of course, as soon as they left the kitchen, they were quick to part ways, and this time Ludwig took it upon himself to trail behind Magnus and find out exactly what <em>he </em>did all day (but not because he was staying).</p>
  <p>Most of Magnus' time was spent listening to the radio in his room, tuning channels in and out and trying to catch glimpses of friendly voices, sometimes raising the speaker to his mouth and muttering away in Danish. The serious look upon his face in those moments was rather unpleasant, a mixture of homesickness and sadness, and, when no one ever answered, Ludwig was glad when he left the radio alone to go wander into town.</p>
  <p>He didn't follow. Timo did that.</p>
  <p>Without the two who spoke to him the most, he found himself alone with Berwald.</p>
  <p>Feeling uncomfortable alone in the house, the only thing there really was to do was just to track him down. Which wasn't hard. Berwald could usually be found outside, working on this and that or sometimes lying back atop one of the tables and staring up at the sky.</p>
  <p>Sure enough, as soon as Ludwig opened the door, there he was, but this time he was inspecting the car, and it was a burst of adrenaline that led Ludwig down the stairs and towards him, saying, loudly, "I was just about to work on that."</p>
  <p>Shit.</p>
  <p>He hadn't really meant to slack on it. Not that he was planning on staying. It was just that Berwald had said, after all, that he couldn't stay for free, and so far he hadn't really made any effort to be useful.</p>
  <p><em>Not</em> that he was planning on staying.</p>
  <p>Looking up at his voice, Berwald met his gaze, and shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>Trudging through the muddy snow, Ludwig came to a halt before the car, and said, quickly, "I'll need some tools."</p>
  <p>Berwald nodded, and wandered off.</p>
  <p>In Berwald's absence, Ludwig took a second to inspect the damage he had inflicted upon the hapless vehicle, and couldn't help but regret. Pretty car. What a shame. Well, nothing that couldn't be fixed, and he was lucky that a busted car was the worst that had come out of all of that. The way Magnus tackled. Similar to getting hit by a train. And he had been there, too.</p>
  <p>A thud at his side made him turn his head, to see that Berwald had tossed a bag of tools upon the ground.</p>
  <p>A silence, and when it became apparent that Berwald had no intention of speaking, he placed a hand on his hip and said, "That'll work."</p>
  <p>He set about it, taking a blunt hammer to the dents in the door first, trying to beat it back into place so that it could at least close properly. Berwald stood off and watched, straightening his coat down with wandering hands.</p>
  <p>Finally, as awkward minutes ticked by and Ludwig held the hammer in his teeth and tried to screw hinges back in place, Berwald asked, "Need help?"</p>
  <p>He spared a glance, and snorted.</p>
  <p>"Sure," he grumbled as best he could, and Berwald came forward, looking a bit out of place as he tried to lend a helping hand.</p>
  <p>He wasn't very useful in a mechanical sense, but...</p>
  <p>Despite his oddities, Ludwig didn't really mind the times he found himself in the company of Berwald, if only for the silence. Sometimes, Timo and Magnus just talked too damn much. And it went every bit as silently as he had expected, and Berwald did everything he was asked to do without adding small talk. His kind of friend. (Not that he was planning on staying and making friends.)</p>
  <p>Hours and a fixed muffler later, Timo finally came wandering up the drive, a staggering Magnus in tow. Berwald send them a look of agitation, and quickly averted his gaze, a strange look upon his face as he returned his attention to rubbing oil from his hands as they stood there in a short break. Timo looked flustered and irritated, and it was obvious, even from where he stood, that Magnus was intoxicated. Ah! Maybe he should have gone into town after all.</p>
  <p>Trudging up towards the house, a fist clenched in Magnus' coat and muttering under his breath, Timo spared only a brief glance at Berwald to gripe something aloud that might have been an insincere apology. Berwald only stared off into space, wringing the rag within his hands mindlessly. Ludwig watched their silent looks and communications with the purpose of identifying and remembering them and attempting to calculate what set each of them off. But <em>not</em> because he was planning on staying. Friends close, enemies closer, etc.</p>
  <p>Was Berwald angry because Magnus was drunk or because Magnus was back? Was Timo agitated because he was keeping Magnus upright or because he knew Berwald would be angry? Was Magnus drunk because he was a partier or because he was heartsick?</p>
  <p>Small details, no matter how insignificant they could seem, were important. It was wise to have a handle on these men, even if he was only staying a short while.</p>
  <p>As Timo led wavering Magnus up the short steps, Berwald raised his voice and barked what was very clearly a command, and even though he couldn't understand the words, the tone surprised him a bit. It surprised him too the nasty look that Timo sent him over his shoulder.</p>
  <p>Somehow, he had expected these men to get along just a little better.</p>
  <p>Taking the cloth from Berwald when it was offered, he leaned back against the car, scrubbing his hands free of clinging motor-oil and watching with a lifted brow of interest as Berwald turned on his heel and stalked off towards a weathered tree stump, taking up the axe to begin quite furiously chopping more firewood. Even though the porch was full of it. And it cluttered all sides of the house. And there was a stack down at the tree-line, too.</p>
  <p>Maybe there was so much firewood because there were so many times that Berwald needed to get some stress off his shoulders, and maybe out in the middle of nowhere this was really the only way to do it.</p>
  <p>The thud of the axe against the logs echoed in the empty forests.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tilted his head, and logged this information away.</p>
  <p>Not too long after, Timo came out alone, and, with only a quick glance at Ludwig, he stomped down the hill to where Berwald stood. When an argument broke out, Ludwig only leered down at them from above and logged that away too. Timo stomped his foot in the snow, looking more like a viper than the lamb he usually played.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had no idea what the fuck was going on with these crazy sons of bitches, but it sure was interesting to watch. Kinda like bein' at the movies.</p>
  <p>The argument quickly ended when Berwald's face fell a bit, and then his shoulders, and then the axe fell too, and Timo grabbed it up and took over the work. Maybe everyone used wood-chopping as anger management.</p>
  <p>Berwald backed off, conceding the fight to Timo.</p>
  <p>Strange.</p>
  <p>He jumped a bit in alarm when Timo suddenly cried, "Hey, Ludwig!"</p>
  <p>Startled, he whipped his head and looked down, ready to flee. There was <em>no</em> way he was getting dragged into the middle of domestic disputes.</p>
  <p>Timo only looked up at him, axe in hand, and inclined his head to the pile of timber.</p>
  <p>"Gimme a hand?"</p>
  <p>He didn't really care to, but he did anyway, to keep in good standing. But not because he was staying.</p>
  <p>As soon as he hit the bottom of the hill, coming to Timo's side, he was immediately put to work, and there was no point in denying that he did <em>not </em>like holding the wood still as Timo steadied the axe, only to snatch his hands back at the last second to avoid losing them. Well. Could be worse. Better to hold firewood in a quiet little place than to hold a rifle in a frightened town.</p>
  <p>Berwald stood back, arms crossed and only observing, a very placid look upon his face. Somehow, big Berwald had been successfully bullied by smaller Timo. Another useful note for future reference.</p>
  <p>Ten minutes or so passed before Timo finally dropped the axe onto the ground, reaching up to rub a bicep as he said, "Arm's tired. Switch off?"</p>
  <p>"Sure," he supplied, easily.</p>
  <p>Chopping firewood would certainly be an experience to write home about.</p>
  <p>Oh.</p>
  <p>A pang. No writing home for him.</p>
  <p>Ignoring the sudden ache, he took the axe from Timo and raised it up, trying to imitate what he had seen.</p>
  <p>Berwald muttered from behind, "Don't hold it so high."</p>
  <p>He obeyed. Even though he fell off to the side the first two times, it was pretty easy to get a hang of. He felt a bit useful. Not that he was staying. As they worked, the mood improved a bit, and any of the dirty looks and harsh words of earlier were quite clearly forgotten. Timo's smile was bright, and Berwald's brow was high.</p>
  <p>After a while, he found that he liked the work. The burn in his arms was pleasant. Physical exertion had always been a fondness, and this was more than a good workout, especially after being bed-ridden. Sweat never killed anyone.</p>
  <p>As Timo carried over more bundles of wood to be chopped, Ludwig raised his eyes up, and saw that Berwald had wandered off, and was standing up on the hill next to the house, staring off into space and tapping his foot absently.</p>
  <p>A loner.</p>
  <p>Timo followed his gaze, and snorted.</p>
  <p>"You'll have to get used to him."</p>
  <p>As he raised the axe back above his head, Ludwig grunted, "I gotta get used to you, too."</p>
  <p>"Yeah," Timo threw back, breezily, "But I'm easier on the eyes, right?"</p>
  <p>He scoffed, and brought the axe down.</p>
  <p>"Whatever you say."</p>
  <p>He went at it as long as he could, which couldn't have been half an hour. His arms hurt too much to carry on, and, wiping his brow, he called it quits as Timo knelt down to gather up the last of the readied timber.</p>
  <p>Even as the sun hung low over the mountains, Berwald still just stood there up above, and hadn't really moved.</p>
  <p>"He doesn't say much, does he?" Ludwig finally asked, and Timo looked up at him, and shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>"Not really! I guess he just doesn't have anything to <em>say</em>. I think he just... Ah, fuck. I don't know, he's just kinda weird. Who could ever know what he's thinking? I still can't figure him out."</p>
  <p>Ludwig almost smiled then, and, as he averted his gaze from Timo back up to Berwald, standing alone upon the hill, he repeated something that Gilbert had told him years ago, when his friends had teased him for being so awkward and silent.</p>
  <p>"Quiet men have the most on their minds."</p>
  <p>Actually, Gilbert's version had been more akin to, 'the quiet ones are the really fuckin' sneaky ones, so tell 'em to watch out and not mess with ya or else'. His remake sounded a little better.</p>
  <p>Timo snorted, and pulled himself to his feet, straightening up as he dusted his hands on his pants and turned a coy eye to Ludwig.</p>
  <p>"Or nothing at all," he offered, and Ludwig finally smiled, tucking his hands in his pockets.</p>
  <p>...yeah, or that.</p>
  <p>"You'd know," Timo added, still watching him with that easy, friendly gaze, "Wouldn't you? You don't talk a lot either. So damn serious. You remind me a lot of <em>him</em>. Still waters run deep, right?"</p>
  <p>He nodded.</p>
  <p>Alright, Timo's version had bested his. Same difference.</p>
  <p>"I'm going inside," Timo finally said, after a few minutes of uneventful silence. "Come in before it gets too late. We'll have to wash Magnus' clothes before he pitches a fit that you got sap on 'em."</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>With that, Timo sent him a nod of acknowledgement and retreated inside as the sun sank ever lower.</p>
  <p>He stayed out, wandering around below, enjoying the silence and the breeze.</p>
  <p>Berwald just stared out into the mountains above, his thumbs looped in his belt, until the sun set. Ludwig waited patiently down below, exploring here and there. He didn't mind the silence.</p>
  <p>And that night, when the clothes were clean and when the wood was put away, when the sky was clear and the moon was high and he felt well-rested and like himself again, when the time was right and everyone was asleep and the cars were unguarded, Ludwig didn't even really think to grab up the keys from the hook near the door and jump inside a vehicle and make his great escape.</p>
  <p>The urge to run had, truthfully, all but vanished. It wasn't really <em>so </em>bad here. And maybe it was easier, in the end, to rely upon these men rather than to set out on his own in strange lands. Loneliness was an option. Not a necessity. These men already knew who he was and where he had come from. They didn't really seem to care, and maybe to them it was even a gift.</p>
  <p>He liked not being looked at as something to fear. That small kindness kept him here.</p>
  <p>Better to stay safe within the walls built by these masters of disguise than to go out into a different town and shoot himself in the foot by knowing neither the language nor the cultural skills needed to pass himself off as a civilian. Too risky outside.</p>
  <p>Maybe Berwald's spur-of-the-moment decision had been a blessing in disguise for him.</p>
  <p>He didn't run.</p>
  <p>Sometimes it was better to go downstream.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Four Strong Winds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 7</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Four Strong Winds</strong>
  </p>
  <p>What a week.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, despite his initial determination to escape them no matter what ruthless actions needed to be taken, had finally seemed to settle down a bit. At least by all outward appearances. It was probably just the calm before the storm. In all honesty, even if Ludwig did make a run for it, Berwald wasn't really planning on extending his hand to stop it. Lukas was safe, so there was no longer any need for exchange. Ludwig wouldn't go to Norway, so there was no worry about their role in the sabotage being brought to the military.</p>
  <p>If he woke up one morning and Ludwig was gone, he sure wasn't gonna cry about it. Let Ludwig go, if he really wanted to. They had been fine before him, and they'd be fine after him.</p>
  <p>For now, Ludwig seemed content to stay put, and was taking things in pretty good stride. He was certainly more comfortable around them, that was for sure, and Berwald had seen him having a casual drink with Magnus on at least two separate occasions. Timo seemed to have taken a liking to him.</p>
  <p>Son of a bitch needed to learn to sleep in, though.</p>
  <p>"I'm comin'," was the only thing he managed to grunt, barely conscious and barely aware of his own actions, as Ludwig's fist came down on his door in a relentless wake-up call not long after the sun had risen.</p>
  <p>Tumbling out of bed in an undignified manner that he was glad nobody was around to see, he grabbed up his new glasses from the end-table, and trudged wearily to the door.</p>
  <p>When he pulled it open, Ludwig stood on the other side, bright and alert and wide-awake. Ludwig was a handsome guy and all, a cute kid, but Berwald wasn't dazzled by that pretty face and attractive nose enough to ignore this annoying damn habit.</p>
  <p>Casting a cool, pale gaze over Berwald's disheveled and sleep-struck appearance, Ludwig finally arched a brow, straightened his back, and drawled in a very hardnosed way, "Rise and shine." And then he turned on his heel and carried on down the hall like a fuckin' drill sergeant, and started to bang on Magnus' door.</p>
  <p>A muffled moan of, "Go <em>away</em>!" only made Ludwig bang all the harder.</p>
  <p>Berwald, gliding towards the staircase like a phantom, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wondered, as he took careful steps down, if Ludwig's soldierly skills were really worth it. He was kind of a pain in the ass. Who the hell did this kid think he was? Ludwig didn't belong here.</p>
  <p>As Berwald seated himself at the table, Timo already in place and covering yawns with his hands, the smell of coffee and the warmth that the stove had created in the room was rather comforting, and the irritation of being shaken out of bed far too early quickly faded.</p>
  <p>Timo, hair messy and pale and heavy-eyed, sent him a smile.</p>
  <p>"Mornin'."</p>
  <p>He nodded his head, throat too scratchy to really speak, and contented himself with staring at the sleepy Finn until he'd had his fill. Timo was beautiful, that was for sure.</p>
  <p>As expected, Timo started shifting again under his gaze, and leapt far too eagerly upon the opportunity to look away when Ludwig came marching down the stairs, a griping Magnus in tow—literally. Ludwig's hand was entangled in the folds of Magnus' shirt, and he was dragging him quite mercilessly away from the comfort of bed.</p>
  <p>An interesting scene. Ludwig obviously found himself the most comfortable around Magnus, even more than with Timo. Ugh. It irritated Berwald that Magnus seemed to have an ability to charm just about <em>anyone</em>.</p>
  <p>Timo's smile brightened and widened when Magnus was sitting at the table, and any attention that he had been giving Berwald was easily distracted. Magnus only smiled, blearily, eyeing Timo with a look that was far too warm and that lingered far too long.</p>
  <p>The irritated intensified. Berwald stared at Timo as if he were the only thing in the world, and Timo seemed to only have eyes for Magnus. Not fair.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, keeping his elbow off the table politely, didn't say a word, and a side-effect of Berwald's irritation made him realize that he really didn't like Ludwig wearing Magnus' clothes, because it was kind of like looking at <em>two </em>Magnuses, and good god almighty, he'd rather go outside and burrow under the snow and <em>die </em>than to be faced with <em>that </em>possibility. Way too unnerving, to have Ludwig pass by and to only smell Magnus.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus continued to stare at each other, and it became apparent that they were content to stay that way.</p>
  <p>How awful.</p>
  <p>As they ate, Timo looked at Ludwig and said, offhandedly, "You gonna work more on the car today?"</p>
  <p>As expected, Ludwig nodded.</p>
  <p>Berwald was quick to discover Timo's endgame when he said, "Great. Berwald can give you a hand. It'll go faster that way."</p>
  <p>Ludwig smiled, and Berwald ducked his head. Did that ever sting, because Berwald knew that Timo was going to slink out into town with Magnus, and wanted to make sure they were alone. Magnus was the other mechanic, not Berwald; if Timo really wanted the car to be fixed faster, he would have offered Magnus' services.</p>
  <p>That hurt.</p>
  <p>It was with a furrowed brow and a sense of dejection that he watched Timo and Magnus shovel their food down their throats as quickly as they could without choking, and then leap to their feet and all but race each other to see who could grab their coat first.</p>
  <p>The slam of the door.</p>
  <p>Without really realizing it, his fork lowered until it was just pressing into the plate, his head hanging a bit and appetite suddenly gone. He barely noticed Ludwig sitting across from him, watching him. His mind was occupied elsewhere. Just imagining them together, walking together down towards the town and smiling away, happy to chatter to each other and bump each others' shoulders in friendly camaraderie. His worst nightmare.</p>
  <p>A rustle off to the side, and he glanced up half-heartedly, to see that Ludwig had gathered up the empty plates and set them in a stack on the counter. When everything fell silent and Ludwig was occupied with washing the dishes, he lowered his eyes again and fell back into his head.</p>
  <p>Stupid.</p>
  <p>He should have been planning their next move and looking into what was happening across the borders. Not worrying about what was happening between Magnus and Timo.</p>
  <p>It was just hard to reconcile that someone he liked as much as Timo was always so keen to be with someone he hated as much as Magnus. It was hard to swallow that Timo could meet Magnus' gaze, but not his own.</p>
  <p>What did he see there?</p>
  <p>Maybe because Magnus could say so easily whatever came into his mind, and Timo found that charming and attractive. Maybe because Magnus was bold and aggressive and took initiative whenever he saw fit. Magnus babbled whatever thoughts popped into his head, quick and witty, and hell, what did <em>he </em>do? Berwald just stood there, staring, silent and still, and whenever Timo did try to speak to him, all he usually managed was a dumb, 'huh' or 'hm'.</p>
  <p>A hand in front of his face startled him, and when he looked up, Ludwig was hovering above him, reaching for his plate.</p>
  <p>"Are you done?"</p>
  <p>After an immobile second, he nodded his head. Ludwig didn't move, and opened his mouth, as though about to speak.</p>
  <p>"Hey," he said, voice low and rumbling and almost abashed, and Berwald could see him lifting his shoulders a bit in what could have been anxiety, and then, finally, he managed to add a quick, stiff, "Thanks."</p>
  <p>Berwald shifted, and then finally uttered, "For what?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig shifted too, looking almost as awkward as he himself felt, and then he said, "For letting me stay."</p>
  <p>Berwald scoffed, and muttered, "Sure."</p>
  <p>He hadn't really <em>let </em>Ludwig stay so much as <em>forced </em>him. He was kinda glad that Ludwig interpreted it that way. It was comforting, at least, to know that Ludwig still thought he was the one and only in charge, even though in all actuality it was a role that was frequently snatched away from him by Timo and mocked by Magnus.</p>
  <p>The irritation faded a bit as a little boost of confidence came in, and he added, in a stronger voice, "Don't mention it."</p>
  <p>Just when Berwald had turned his gaze back to space and assumed that the awkward exchange was over, Ludwig suddenly whirled around, hands held out at his sides in strange, palpable apprehension.</p>
  <p>"Hey."</p>
  <p>Berwald looked over again.</p>
  <p>Finally, a low, "Hey...sorry about that kick. You know."</p>
  <p>Oh. Right.</p>
  <p>He nodded his head, and Ludwig, satisfied, lowered his shoulders and exhaled a bit in relief.</p>
  <p>For a moment, he was a little surprised when the corners of Ludwig's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, and he added, "Hope I didn't really hurt anyone."</p>
  <p>He wanted to say, 'we've had worse scrapes', because they had (even if Ludwig's steel-toed boots had hurt like holy hell), but there was no point on dwelling on it anyway.</p>
  <p>He only gave a deep, "Mm."</p>
  <p>Ludwig finally reached down to take up his mug of coffee from the table, and, as he finished it off, he said, "I'm glad for that, too."</p>
  <p>Ludwig ambled off, feet silent on the wooden planks, leaving Berwald to stare after him and sit dumbly still. He wished, as he frequently did, that his throat would stop clutching up on him whenever he needed it.</p>
  <p>Ludwig seemed to get the gist pretty well. At least <em>someone </em>seemed to understand what he was trying to say.</p>
  <p>Usually, Lukas was the only one that did, but Lukas, so strange, seemed to mistranslate his feelings to the others and expand things a little more than Berwald had meant.</p>
  <p>'Do you want to come with us to the city?'</p>
  <p>'Eh...'</p>
  <p>Lukas could understand Berwald's grunt easily, but then when he took it to the others a simple grunt had turned into, 'He said he doesn't wanna go today. He's not feeling well and he has stuff to do.'</p>
  <p>Eh? Not <em>quite </em>what he had said.</p>
  <p>Maybe Ludwig wasn't so bad. He didn't go out looking for trouble and didn't try to start fights (anymore) and, best of all, he didn't try to usurp authority, and seemed to respect <em>his</em>. Ludwig wasn't bad at all. If he decided that he wanted to stay, Berwald could get used to him.</p>
  <p>Feeling a little better, he tried to take his mind off of wondering what Timo was up to, and when he heard the clanking of metal from outside, he rolled up his sleeves and tried to help Ludwig finish banging dents out of the car as best he could, preferring to keep himself occupied. Ludwig looked up at him every so often, but was quick to look away when caught, and never spoke. Berwald couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd been coming off a little too...</p>
  <p>Unfriendly.</p>
  <p>Ludwig seemed to have loosened up around Timo and even more so around Magnus, but he was not quite certain that Ludwig saw him as equally approachable. Maybe he wasn't. He would have liked to try and make conversation, if only to appear normal and amicable, but could think of no good topics nor words, and just stayed quiet.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was quiet, too. However, Ludwig's silence seemed to be more of thoughtfulness and carefulness and observation, not thick ineloquence like his own. If Ludwig had had a mind to talk, he would have, and no doubt smoothly and without much problems.</p>
  <p>Like normal people.</p>
  <p>As if to prove this, Ludwig, reaching out to pat a hand against the car, said, as they finished up, "Well, there. Almost as good as new." With a very serious gaze, Ludwig turned toward him, and carefully extended a hand, adding, "So no hard feelings, right?"</p>
  <p>Why not?</p>
  <p>It had been a series of unfortunate events, one that <em>he</em> had started, and Ludwig had only been caught up in the tide. Nothing none of them wouldn't have done had the situation been reversed. A few dents in a car wasn't a bad outcome for all that happened, not when so many things could have gone <em>wrong</em>.</p>
  <p>So many things.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could have hit Timo so hard that he might not have woken up. Magnus might have placed his knee on Ludwig's throat instead of his chest. Ludwig might have turned around and kicked Berwald in the head instead of the ribs. And Berwald's finger could have slipped on the trigger as it had been pressed into Ludwig's forehead.</p>
  <p>Brushes with disaster. What was a dented Volvo with scraped paint and a door that creaked when it opened? Nothing.</p>
  <p>He'd take the car.</p>
  <p>Reaching out, Berwald accepted the handshake with a nod of his head.</p>
  <p>Ludwig smiled a little, eyeing him up and down with a scrutiny that very nearly made him shift his weight (was that how Timo felt?), and then pulled away his hand, and looked off towards the hidden town.</p>
  <p>"Quiet place, huh?"</p>
  <p>He shrugged a shoulder and gave a quick, "Mm", and Ludwig only sent him a glance.</p>
  <p>"You must have grown up in a place like this."</p>
  <p>The unspoken reason was, 'because you're quiet too'.</p>
  <p>"My town was smaller," he finally said, and did not miss the passing of disbelief across Ludwig's face.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, obviously well-bred and with a pedigree, must have lived near the cities back home. Probably a Bavarian, maybe from Munich, from the oddity of his speech when he did open his mouth. Being out here must have been a big change.</p>
  <p>"You'll get used to it."</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't answer, staring out into the sides of the mountains, gleaming with snow in the morning sun, and the silence was a little heavy. Maybe Ludwig was starting to get a little homesick.</p>
  <p>"Well," Ludwig suddenly said, as he crouched down to wipe smudges of motor-oil from the tops of his boots, "I guess it's home now."</p>
  <p>It was.</p>
  <p>Feeling a little twinge of something that could have been guilt, Berwald watched him, and finally managed, "You're welcome as long as ya want."</p>
  <p>Ludwig only peered up at him, narrow eyes a bit knowing, and he was glad that Ludwig stayed silent and didn't say, 'Oh! So now I can leave whenever I want, huh?'</p>
  <p>That would have been a little embarrassing, after twisting Ludwig's arm behind his back so hard about it.</p>
  <p>Home; Ludwig must have felt that then, because he stood up and turned his eyes back out to the mountains, and suddenly he looked so <em>lost</em>. A kid wandering the vast woods. Looked so homesick all of a sudden, and Berwald could only retreat and leave him alone for a while. Didn't know what to say, and seeing Ludwig looking so suddenly mournful was distasteful.</p>
  <p>Perked up quick enough, though, it seemed, and he had still accepted the drink that Magnus had offered in the evening with a smile.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was homesick, and Berwald knew the feeling. One of the worst ones there was, and on top of that, no doubt Ludwig missed his uniform and the feeling of being a soldier, too.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't need to know yet that his Wehrmacht uniform hadn't been thrown away. Berwald had washed it and sewed it back into pristine appearance, and kept it his own room, safe from view. It was an invaluable artifact to keep around, although it was still too risky to tell Ludwig that he'd only kept it just in case they ever needed to use it. In case they needed Ludwig to parade around as a soldier again.</p>
  <p>Could only imagine the ruckus Ludwig would have raised at that. Another round of brawling, no doubt.</p>
  <p>For now, it was tread lightly.</p>
  <p>Despite heavy-heartedness and a little melancholy, time passed without incident.</p>
  <p>These days were calm.</p>
  <p>It barely felt like it had been two weeks since Ludwig had been a bloody nuisance slung over his shoulder. It wasn't really so weird now, seeing him wandering around outside on his own and looking a little more comfortable every day. Comfortable, but maybe not happy. They never asked him, really, because they still didn't <em>know </em>him. He was just Ludwig. He didn't ever give much else. Questions were neatly deflected or completely ignored, and no matter how delicately Timo pressed or how persistently Magnus asked, he refused to talk about his home and about what had led him to defect in the first place. Ludwig was proving to be as mysterious as he was serious, but Berwald wasn't particularly nosy, and some things were better left unsaid.</p>
  <p>He didn't much mind Ludwig's motives, as long as Ludwig didn't cause any trouble.</p>
  <p>The fifteenth day with their new member was rather eventful.</p>
  <p>It came on a normal afternoon, as Berwald and Timo sat out on the porch, playing a friendly game of cards in a moment of calm privacy that Berwald was extremely grateful for. It seemed to be harder and harder to catch Timo alone, and harder and harder to get him to stay and interact. Luckily, Ludwig was already proving useful in that he was unwittingly able to distract Magnus at times by merely accepting a drink when Magnus offered.</p>
  <p>As he sat there, cards in hand and churning through his mind, a sudden, great noise startled him.</p>
  <p>"I'll be <em>goddamned</em>!" came a sharp cry, and Berwald straightened up in surprise when Timo leapt up from the table so fast that he nearly knocked it over, rushing forward and skidding to halt at the end of the porch, a bright look upon his face.</p>
  <p>Turning his head, Berwald followed his gaze, and saw. Down below, a glimmer of black was visible at the twist in the road. A car approached. Tossing his cards down onto the table, Berwald hauled himself to his feet, and watched as Timo bounced up and down on his heels eagerly.</p>
  <p>Lukas was back.</p>
  <p>...about time. 'A while' in Stockholm had turned into some kind of vacation.</p>
  <p>A movement at his side.</p>
  <p>Behind the door, a tentative Ludwig was peering out, to see what the fuss was about. He cast Berwald a look of curiosity, but Berwald only turned his head away, observing the approaching automobile, unsure of what to say. How could he really tell Ludwig that he hadn't actually met everyone? That would surely be a little unnerving. Meeting new people.</p>
  <p>A minute later and the car was in the drive, and as soon as the engine cut, Timo was bounding down the stairs, smile bright in the sun.</p>
  <p>Ludwig bounded too, but in the opposite direction; as soon as he had seen the German-made car, the black paint and the waxed sheen, he had paled like a ghost and fallen backward through the doorframe, tucking himself back into a corner and out of sight, and Berwald knew that it was because he had mistaken the driver of the car for the people it had formerly belonged to; the Wehrmacht.</p>
  <p>Berwald was glad though, in a way, that Ludwig had panicked in such a manner. It made it obvious that there was very little possibility that Ludwig would up and leave; he'd be too afraid of encountering his own, perhaps. He wouldn't mind Ludwig staying around. For a while. Especially if he kept distracting Magnus from Timo.</p>
  <p>...okay, maybe that was a little selfish.</p>
  <p>A whisper from behind.</p>
  <p>"Hey, you okay?"</p>
  <p>He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Magnus had come out, and, seeing Ludwig pressed back so far into the corner behind the door that he was practically melded into the wood, he had become a little concerned.</p>
  <p>"What's wrong?"</p>
  <p>He couldn't hear Ludwig's answer, but Berwald didn't miss the flit of Magnus' gaze upon him, nor the quick flash of accusation. Like <em>he'd </em>done something to alarm Ludwig so. Hardly. What did Magnus care anyway? Fuckin' Magnus had been the one that had wanted to take Ludwig out in the woods and shoot him like a dog not so long ago. Maybe he'd forgotten <em>that </em>part already.</p>
  <p>He turned his eyes away, and lifted his chin. He heard the creaking of the wood, and even though he did not bother to look, he knew that Magnus had come out onto the porch, no doubt with crossed arms and a look of anger as he waited to lay into Berwald.</p>
  <p>Before he opened his mouth, Magnus looked down, and saw the car. Instantly, the electricity was gone, and suddenly Magnus was at his side, foot tapping excitedly as he waited with impatience, this time to lay into Lukas as soon as he stepped up.</p>
  <p>Down below, the car door was pushed open. Lukas stepped out, pale hair shining bright in the sun and hands dusting off his sleeves rather primly, and everyone heaved a simultaneous sigh. It was great to see him in one piece and obviously unfazed by his brush with death. Still standing with that same old air of self-absorbed dreaminess.</p>
  <p>"Hey," Timo called to him, as he waited at the bottom of the steps, twitching eagerly, "Took you long enough! Say! What did you bring me?"</p>
  <p>Lukas looked up at him, as he reached absently into the backseat and pulled out a bag, and then he said, "Was I supposed to bring something? Oh. Sorry."</p>
  <p>Timo only shook his head and rolled his eyes before muttering, "Oh, you jerk! I always bring stuff back for you from Helsinki!"</p>
  <p>"I thought that was just because you wanted to. I didn't realize we were obligated."</p>
  <p>Magnus sighed, and even though he was rolling his eyes, Berwald could see just from the slump of his shoulders how <em>relieved </em>he was that Lukas was safe. And then they caught sight of the bag that Lukas was hauling out from the back.</p>
  <p>"The backpack," came the deep whisper of absolute disbelief, as Magnus shook his head. "I don't believe it. He's got the fuckin' backpack. He got it. He got the goddamn thing. He's—he's so <em>stupid</em>!"</p>
  <p>Berwald had a mind to say, 'well, that must be why he likes you so much,' but refrained.</p>
  <p>A creak of the door behind made him turn his head.</p>
  <p>Hearing their voices and peering out to see that was not any real danger after all, Ludwig had finally stepped out, silently, and settled back in the corner of the porch, observing the events as an outsider and probably feeling somewhat uncomfortable. No doubt meeting a new member and facing potential hostility was a little alarming, especially after he'd assumed that he'd settled in. Who knew what Lukas was going to say, weirdo that he was.</p>
  <p>Tossing his cherished, torn backpack down upon the steps, Lukas quickly returned to the car, and popped open the trunk. He'd brought something back after all.</p>
  <p>"What are those?" Magnus asked, petulantly, as Lukas began to haul heavy brown bags from the trunk.</p>
  <p>Without sparing a glance, Lukas called up, "Sandbags."</p>
  <p>"For <em>what</em>?"</p>
  <p>"The driveway."</p>
  <p>"It's only gonna snow for a few more weeks."</p>
  <p>"We'll save them."</p>
  <p>Magnus furrowed his brow, and called, "Well!—where'd you get 'em?"</p>
  <p>Lukas dragged one of the bags up towards the steps, and answered, "The hospital in Stockholm. They had a ton of them all around the building. They weren't using them for anything. So. I took a few."</p>
  <p>Magnus and Berwald shared an incredulous look, and Magnus cried, as Lukas retreated for another bag, "You know they've got those there in case they get <em>bombed</em>, right?"</p>
  <p>"Like I said, they aren't using them," Lukas supplied.</p>
  <p>Magnus was smiling breathlessly.</p>
  <p>"So—so <em>wait</em>! You stopped in front of the <em>hospital</em>, saw their sandbags, and thought, 'hey, I could use some of these for the driveway at home'?"</p>
  <p>Lukas, in the process of hauling another bag, stopped for a second, and after a moment of being lost in his own space, he murmured, easily, "Mm-hm!"</p>
  <p>"What if they get bombed, huh? You're gonna feel real bad that you took 'em!"</p>
  <p>"No. If they need to, they can always take some from the school. They had a lot, too."</p>
  <p>Reaching up and cradling his forehead in his hand, Magnus muttered, "Hang on a second. I need to try and remember why we ever gave you a gun."</p>
  <p>"I gave <em>you </em>a gun, if I recall correctly."</p>
  <p>Turning to look down at Timo, Magnus asked, loudly, "<em>Why </em>did you ever give him a gun?"</p>
  <p>Timo only shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>Dumping of the bags in front of the steps complete, Lukas finally took his first step upward, and onto the porch. Finally home. There was only a second of hesitation before Magnus was upon him, pulling into a quick, squeezing embrace that lifted Lukas clear off the ground and then was gone as quickly and randomly as it had come, and Timo and Magnus gathered together to chatter amongst themselves about the sandbags lying in the muddy snow.</p>
  <p>Lukas came up to Berwald, treading quietly, and fell to a stop.</p>
  <p>"Miss me?" Lukas asked, coolly, and Berwald could only shake his head.</p>
  <p>Yeah. Yeah, he had.</p>
  <p>Instead of saying it aloud, he only asked, "So. How'd ya get outta this one?"</p>
  <p>Lukas rested his chin in his palm, arm perched up upon the other one, and even though he was looking at Berwald, his voice seemed a million miles away as he breathed, "Game of cards."</p>
  <p>Magnus chortled somewhere from behind.</p>
  <p>A soft sigh of exasperation from Timo, and then Lukas' wandering eyes finally settled on Ludwig, tucked in the corner, and he tilted his head, a look of detached interest upon his face.</p>
  <p>"Oh. What's this?" he finally asked.</p>
  <p>'<em>What</em>'s this', not 'who's this'. Typical. Lukas had to have known it was the same soldier, and yet the question was still a valid one. Ludwig should have been long gone by now.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't know how to say it, and it was hapless Timo, in the end, who was forced to step forward and say to Lukas, "Ah... New member?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig shuffled his feet under their stares of scrutiny, uncomprehending their words and looking a little anxious.</p>
  <p>They waited.</p>
  <p>And then Lukas stepped forward, feet silent and sure and unwavering, and it was with a very soft, very cool voice that he extended a hand and said, in neat, pretty German that Berwald never even knew he could speak, "Oh, welcome aboard."</p>
  <p>A second of hesitation, and then Ludwig's shoulders fell in relief, and he accepted the hand politely.</p>
  <p>"Lukas. Pleasure."</p>
  <p>Lukas, always full of surprises. Berwald watched their greeting silently.</p>
  <p>"I'm Ludwig."</p>
  <p>Lukas continued to shake Ludwig's hand absently, long after the greeting was complete. Ludwig, calm and patient, humored him and didn't pull away, and almost seemed interested. Only Lukas knew where his mind wandered off to at times.</p>
  <p>Seconds of silence, and then Ludwig, brow high and eyes gentle, said, awkwardly, "It's...nice to meet you."</p>
  <p>The words drew Lukas from his trance and back into the real world.</p>
  <p>"Indeed."</p>
  <p>The handshake ended, and Ludwig's arms fell loose in complacency.</p>
  <p>Lukas finally smiled then, and placed a calm hand upon Ludwig's shoulder, and before Berwald could even figure out what they were going to do <em>now</em>, Lukas asked Ludwig, in his hypnotic voice, "Say, Ludwig. Did you know that you can make a bomb out of a deck of cards, a pipe, and some water?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig just stared for a moment, and then he smiled too.</p>
  <p>"Well," he finally said, his deep, rough voice a striking compliment to Lukas' silvery one, "I do now."</p>
  <p>Berwald and Timo shared a look.</p>
  <p>Game of cards. Right. Woe to the poor idiot soldier that had left Lukas in possession of something as innocent as a deck of cards.</p>
  <p>Lukas, hand still upon Ludwig's shoulder, began to walk, leading Ludwig along inside the house as he spoke gently to him in words that Berwald could not hear (no doubt lectures on the intricacies of bombs and the such), and Ludwig went along with him, seemingly grateful that his new encounter had gone well.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus followed, and as they went, Berwald heard Magnus say to Lukas, cheerfully, "Lemme tell ya what a trouble <em>this </em>motherfucker was—!"</p>
  <p>Berwald hung back.</p>
  <p>Well. Everyone was getting along just <em>fine</em>, weren't they? The dangerous newcomer had made better friends with these men in days than he had in months. Maybe Ludwig, for all of him, was still just a little more approachable than <em>he </em>was. Kinda sad.</p>
  <p>Maybe it was because he was the 'leader', or maybe it was just because he'd been here first.</p>
  <p>...that sounded right. After all, when Timo had been new to him, Berwald had hung over him all the time. And when Lukas had been new, he and Timo had hung over <em>him</em>. And when Magus had been new, Timo and Lukas had hung over <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>New was better. Ludwig was still new. That made him interesting, and so it didn't really surprise Berwald that everyone hovered over him and attempted to engage him in conversation, if just to get a feel of him. To figure out where he stood. It would pass after another week or two, maybe a month, and then Ludwig would just be one of the gang. A little more interesting than the others, certainly, if only because of how he had wound up here and how much trouble it had been, but still a normal member.</p>
  <p>Still, Berwald couldn't help but wish, just a little, that everyone would try to hang over him. Just once.</p>
  <p>Brow low and feeling a little agitated, he finally found his feet, and followed them inside.</p>
  <p>That was how the group had fallen back together. Five now, instead of four. Hopefully it wasn't one too many. They were pressing their luck, perhaps. Well, it was kind of late to do anything about it now, and this train had already left the station.</p>
  <p>No goin' back.</p>
  <p>The first night that everyone was together was spent relaying Lukas with tales of brawling (in which, of course, Magnus was the hero by successfully decking Ludwig on three separate occasions) and trying to integrate Ludwig in the group all over again. Berwald chose to stay outside for most of it, so that he wouldn't hear everything that Magnus was no doubt saying about him.</p>
  <p>It would be unwise to start a fight in front of Ludwig, and expose a weakness in their armor. The Germans had always been skilled, after all, at turning neighbors against one another. Until Ludwig's motives were known, it was better to look at him as a wild dog; calm and friendly at your side, and quick to grab your throat the second you fell.</p>
  <p>Caution.</p>
  <p>The second day with Lukas back felt a little better than the first, now that Magnus had surely gotten everything off of his chest that he had wanted to say, and there was no reason for any hostility.</p>
  <p>They sat inside, cleaning the guns in the every-other-nightly ritual.</p>
  <p>Berwald took his usual spot on the couch, leaning above the coffee table, and Lukas sat off on the floor, cross-legged and tongue sticking out as he hovered above cables (Lukas only had one gun, which he rarely cleaned, in favor of his many bombs). Timo and Magnus occupied the kitchen table, and Ludwig, shifting and looking a bit left out, leaned back, watching them all in turn with an observing eye.</p>
  <p>He was probably hoping to be invited to interact, since Berwald had not yet made good on his offer to give him a gun.</p>
  <p>Not just yet. He'd feel safer to wait a few more weeks. Even if it wouldn't have been hard for Ludwig to bust in the cabinet if he had even a little mind to and just grab a gun for himself.</p>
  <p>Every so often, he found himself looking up at restless, shifting Ludwig, and wondered if maybe Ludwig was having second thoughts about all of this.</p>
  <p>"Hey, Ludwig!" Timo suddenly called, cheerily, and Berwald turned his head to watch them interact, if only for curiosity's sake.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed above his chest as he watched Lukas tinkering with cables that looked far more innocent than they were, and when Timo called his name, he looked over, ever-watchful eyes finding Timo immediately across the room. Magnus was whispering mischievously under his breath.</p>
  <p>Berwald could already feel the narrowing of his eyes. What were they up to now?</p>
  <p>Ludwig's arms fell loose as he turned, and he seemed surprised, but not disappointed, to be acknowledged and maybe even be asked to participate. A hopeful look.</p>
  <p>"Hey, Ludwig," Timo began, in that friendly voice that was easy on the ears, "it's been a long day! You want a Molotov cocktail?"</p>
  <p>A silence, as Ludwig stood there with wide eyes and a tilted head of confusion, and then Timo and Magnus began to giggle, and Berwald was momentarily agitated that they were teasing Ludwig. Not malicious, certainly, but teasing nonetheless. Then again, his sense of humor had never been very prevalent. Maybe he got irritated too easily.</p>
  <p>Finally, Ludwig found his voice and took a step forward, expression curious, and he asked, "A—a what?"</p>
  <p>Timo tittered, and then with a quick flick of his wrist, he reached over his shoulder and tossed something back. Ludwig, with those trained reflexes, caught it without effort, and when he saw that it was a vodka bottle full of kerosene, with a rag sticking out from the stopper, his look was suddenly so confused that Berwald could only shake his head and sigh.</p>
  <p>"A Molotov cocktail! Get it? To go with the bread basket?" Timo cried, enthusiastically, as Magnus dissolved into helpless laughter, and Ludwig only stood there in complete incomprehension, and began to shuffle his feet.</p>
  <p>Berwald almost felt embarrassed for him.</p>
  <p>Finally, after seconds of giggling, they gathered themselves, and Timo asked, "Get it?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig just stood there, staring down at the makeshift explosive with a furrowed brow of confusion, and finally, Timo waved a dismissive hand in the air, saying breezily, "Ah. You don't get it! Don't worry about it. It's just a joke. I'm just teasin' ya."</p>
  <p>Magnus shook his head, a wide smile upon his face, and when he turned back to the table and set back to work, Timo at his side, Ludwig's brow was ever lower. Another round of staring intently at the bottle, and then Ludwig finally conceded defeat and shuffled silently over to Berwald, leaning in and asking, as quietly as possible, "What's a Molotov cocktail?"</p>
  <p>He could feel Ludwig's breath shifting strands of his hair.</p>
  <p>For a moment, Berwald was distracted by how <em>close </em>Ludwig had felt it necessary to come in just to ask a question, but he finally wrote it off as not wanting to be heard and ridiculed more by the devilish pair, and just shook his head.</p>
  <p>It was a stupid joke, and Berwald, with no interest for plays on words, did not bother to explain it to him. Who really cared, anyway? They shouldn't have been teasing him in the first place.</p>
  <p>Ludwig straightened up, and for a second just stood there, looking around the busy room quietly, and then he reached down with gentle hands and set the bottle of flammable liquid very carefully upon the floor. Another second of lingering, and then he retreated to his spot against the wall, tucking his hands into his pockets.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't help but look up at him every so often from above the barrel of the gun that he was cleaning, and even though Ludwig tried his best to keep his face impassive, it was quite clear to anyone who would have bothered to look that he felt exceedingly out of place, and left out. Useless. Looking about this way and that, as though searching for a way to help out, and when he found no opportunity, Ludwig finally lowered his eyes to his feet and furrowed his brow.</p>
  <p>He felt embarrassed for Ludwig, who stood there alone, staring holes into his shoes and no doubt feeling dejected. And a dejected Ludwig could possibly prove to be a dangerous Ludwig. Who knew if Ludwig would just change sides again? It was better to keep him engaged.</p>
  <p>That feeling of empathy for someone else was what caused him to finally look up, despite himself, and mutter, "Hey."</p>
  <p>Ludwig's gaze snapped up, catching his own instantly. Ready to be set to work.</p>
  <p>It was something he never, ever did, but his body seemed to be moving of its own accord, and he felt himself twitching his head to invite Ludwig over.</p>
  <p>"C'mere."</p>
  <p>Better safe than sorry.</p>
  <p>Ludwig pushed off the wall immediately, looking eager and willing to do whatever Berwald would put upon him, and when he was near the table, Berwald inclined his head to the seat beside of him.</p>
  <p>He could feel Timo's eyes upon him as Ludwig sat, quickly.</p>
  <p>"Here," he said, somewhat gruffly and maybe a bit reluctantly, and after a second of hesitation, he braced his shoulders and set the Gevär that he prized down before Ludwig, gently.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tensed in excitement.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell. He <em>hated </em>people touching his guns.</p>
  <p>"Clean this," he finally managed, voice so low that it nearly cracked, and Ludwig sent him a look that appeared to be a mixture of incredulousness and maybe gratitude, and immediately he hunkered down and set to work, removing the scope with obviously experienced hands.</p>
  <p>Even though he had other rifles to clean, Berwald couldn't really seem to focus, and made it a point to look up at Ludwig anxiously every few seconds. Just in case.</p>
  <p>Timo joked sometimes, 'Nobody touch Berwald's guns! He'll pitch a fit!,' and maybe it was true. But when it came down to something that could save your life, he didn't really see why it was so strange that he should be so damn fussy about it. It wasn't something to be so flippant about.</p>
  <p>Ludwig set to work, and after a moment of observation, it became clear to Berwald that Ludwig was indeed practiced in this. Fingers moving smoothly and carefully, eagle eyes observing every minute detail. Ludwig knew his way around a rifle. For the first time, he felt himself relax and entrusted Ludwig to the task. Besides, if he couldn't sleep later he could always go back over it himself. Not like he had anything else to do, except chop fuckin' firewood.</p>
  <p>As Ludwig took apart the rifle, Berwald happened to glance up, and was a bit overwhelmed to see that Timo was beaming over at him from within the kitchen, almost proudly. Christ. Timo hadn't smiled at him like <em>that</em> since when they had first met. Berwald felt his chest puffing out, just a bit, and quickly set back to work with a rush of adrenaline.</p>
  <p>Who knew that all he had to do to get Timo to smile at him was just to be nice to their hapless newcomer? He'd have done it sooner.</p>
  <p>...yeah, maybe Ludwig wasn't bad at all. A blessing in disguise.</p>
  <p>The minutes ticked by, with friendly chatter from within the kitchen and an occasional curse from Lukas as a cable slipped or didn't curve like he wanted, and Ludwig's shoulders had lowered as anxiety slowly faded. He looked a little happier, almost, to be touching something familiar. Home away from home. Berwald did notice, however, that Ludwig seemed to be glancing up at him in very frequent intervals.</p>
  <p>He played it off, and pretended he didn't see. Just grateful for being invited, no doubt. Kinda made him nervous, though, knowing he was being watched.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus were giggling away, and Lukas had struck up a conversation with Ludwig and they were murmuring away. As always, Berwald was left out. And suddenly Berwald couldn't help but feel a bit <em>overwhelmed </em>by them. The four of them, each of them as bold as the next, if only in different ways.</p>
  <p>Four directions. Four winds.</p>
  <p>Magnus, volatile and strong and sure, reigning from the North. Timo, brave and friendly and bold, holding out the West. Lukas, cool and strange and intense, keeping charge of the South. Now there was Ludwig, quiet and calm and fearless, hailing in from the East.</p>
  <p>It had been alright when <em>he </em>had been the fourth, but now he was the fifth. The odd man out. Where did that leave him?</p>
  <p>In an optimistic mood, he would have perhaps said it left him in the center; the needle in the compass, to guide and direct.</p>
  <p>Most of the time, he just felt pushed far out of the circle.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Timo seemed to be spending more and more time together, giggling and joking and always <em>together</em>, the lion and the bear in perfect harmony. The audacious, outgoing, loud, vivacious duo. Around Magnus, Timo didn't duck his head and shuffle his feet. Quite the contrary! His chin was high and eyes bright, shoulders braced in confidence and always smiling surely, and Magnus' chest was always stuck out. The trouble-makers, bold and opinionative.</p>
  <p>Now that Magnus' time was being devoured by Timo, Lukas seemed to have taken Ludwig under his wing, at least for the purpose of amalgamation, and, indeed, at every turn and bend the entire day, Lukas had been quick to point everything out to Ludwig and make sure that he comprehended what was going on around him. The owl and the eagle, both of them always observing and always honing in and always <em>thinking</em>. Calculating and sometimes thinking about things too much. They tested the waters before they leapt in, and they almost certainly had a back-up plan for every situation.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Timo. Lukas and Ludwig.</p>
  <p>He felt a bit left out.</p>
  <p>Still. Odd man out or no, at least he wasn't alone like he always had been before. He rather liked the company they brought him, even if he didn't show it and couldn't ever tell them, and even if sometimes they confused him a little. If he called himself leader, then he should be used to standing off to the side. For now, it all seemed promising.</p>
  <p>"You a good shot, Ludde?" came Magnus' inquiry over the quiet chatter, "Or are you just one of those guys that look really good holdin' a rifle?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig peered up above the scope, and only said, quite primly, "I'll show you how good a shot I am if you call me that again."</p>
  <p>Magnus laughed, and surprisingly, the sound of it didn't bother Berwald much this time. Not while he was in a pretty good mood.</p>
  <p>"Tomorrow, we can all go out in the woods and test you out a bit," Timo offered, casually, much in the same manner he would have used if speaking about testing a new tool, and Ludwig only snorted as he scrutinized the scope of the rifle with careful eyes.</p>
  <p>Lukas lifted up his head, and was quick to butt in, in native Norwegian, "No way, I'm having a go at him first! I wanna see if he knows how to put together a butterfly. I can't get the wings to fold over right."</p>
  <p>Timo asked, a bit suspiciously, "And...where has this one been at?"</p>
  <p>"Under my bed."</p>
  <p>Timo paled a little, and Berwald knew why; in Lukas' absence and with Ludwig in his, Timo had been sleeping in Lukas' bed. <em>That </em>would have been a shock to discover.</p>
  <p>Magnus looked up and spat, "I wish you'd stop making' fuckin' bombs inside the <em>house</em>, especially if ya don't know <em>how</em>!"</p>
  <p>For once, Berwald and Magnus were in perfect agreement.</p>
  <p>"I've got the bomb right, just not the case. That's what I need an engineer for."</p>
  <p>"T-that's not the point! What're ya makin' a butterfly for anyway? You got a plane to drop it out of that we don't know about?"</p>
  <p>Before Lukas could respond, Timo grumbled, "Wouldn't surprise me."</p>
  <p>Well, Lukas <em>was </em>full of surprises.</p>
  <p>"Just trying something new," was the casual response, and Ludwig, having no comprehension of the latter part of the conversation, only glanced up in unease.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't help but wonder if that unease would have intensified if he knew he'd be around a bomb in the near future. Not a good idea. Not after the train.</p>
  <p>Speaking up in a rare moment, Berwald muttered, lowly, "Tell him what he's doin' before you pull it out. Don't surprise him with it. And don't force him if he doesn't want to."</p>
  <p>Thankfully, Lukas heeded his word, unlike Magnus, and nodded his head quickly, understanding. Pulling bombs out in front of a displaced, uncomfortable Wehrmacht seemed more than a little risky, especially if there was an indication that that bomb would be used to hurt other Wehrmacht.</p>
  <p>After a short silence, Magnus said, "Don't bother with the bombs. He's a sniper, anyway."</p>
  <p>They fell silent again, and the night went on.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was next to him the whole while. It felt a little strange, having someone sit beside of him and interact with him, maybe a little too uncomfortable after he'd been a loner for so long, but the beam of pride on Timo's face was well worth it. If it made Timo happy, he would extend a helping hand to Ludwig when it was needed. As well as he knew how.</p>
  <p>He must have doing a pretty good job. It seemed that every time he looked up, Ludwig was watching him.</p>
  <p>Timo's pretty smile blinded Berwald to Ludwig's.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Come In, Stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 8</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Come In, Stranger</strong>
  </p>
  <p>The snow was melting.</p>
  <p>Grass sprouting up. Flowers. The smell of foliage mingled with the scent of the rivers as they rose up in their beds with the collection of melting ice. The fragile quiet of winter was a little less quiet now. Birds were chirping all over the place. The sound of rushing water winding through the mountains. Squirrels leaping through the trees. The hooves of deer scuffling through the forests.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked calmer.</p>
  <p>Berwald noted that Ludwig had started wandering a lot. Dressed in normal clothing and usually stuck at Magnus' side, he had even gone off into the town and looked around, keeping his mouth shut so as not to startle anyone, and Magnus had said that he had successfully 'met' one of the locals by merely shaking hands and nodding his head. Playing the strong, silent type. No one would ever know he wasn't Swedish if he didn't open his mouth and speak.</p>
  <p>Settling in.</p>
  <p>There was no getting around it, and sometimes Berwald stopped and <em>really </em>thought about it, and found himself sighing and shaking his head and wondering how the hell this had ever happened.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was adapting well. As a trained soldier would be expected to adapt to an unusual and unexpected situation.</p>
  <p>In all honesty, maybe <em>he </em>was the one having trouble adapting. Change had always been a little hard.</p>
  <p>The loss of his parents had hurt, knowing that things would change and he wouldn't see familiar faces in the kitchen anymore. Having to leave his childhood home to go stay with his grandmother had been terrible, knowing that all familiar landscapes would no longer be there to comfort. His grandmother's death had been traumatic, knowing that he was alone now, with no other family on the earth. And returning to his place of birth afterwards and seeing it all <em>gone</em>, the trees cut down and the house no longer there and all nostalgia dissolved, had been devastating.</p>
  <p>Nothing.</p>
  <p>Everything had changed.</p>
  <p>He had fallen into a routine here. Ludwig was shaking it up.</p>
  <p>He liked Ludwig, but it was still just a little...<em>strange</em>.</p>
  <p>Oh, well. He better get used to it, and fast, because it looked like Ludwig wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Everyone else had settled in. He was the only one that still looked over at Ludwig like he was out of place. Ludwig, all things considered, took his strange looks well and never commented on it or asked what his problem was. Come to think, Ludwig had a store of his own strange looks that he seemed to direct only at Berwald, whenever he thought he wasn't being noticed. So maybe they were even, in a way.</p>
  <p>Despite his slow acceptance and reluctances, he made an effort, however small, to make Ludwig feel at ease within the household. Keeping him active and involved was imperative.</p>
  <p>Luckily, he didn't have to lift his hand a lot in that department.</p>
  <p>Lukas seemed quite happy to do it for him. Lukas seemed quite happy to do it for <em>everyone</em>. Hovering above Ludwig like a goddamn ghost every time Berwald looked up.</p>
  <p>Most of the time, the look upon Ludwig's face was something similar to a man who had been caught doing something wrong. Berwald could certainly understand, because Lukas had a way of making everyone extremely uncomfortable without really even trying.</p>
  <p>Kinda funny to watch though. Ludwig standing there in the hall and Lukas all but materializing right beside of him, eliciting a jump of surprise and a nervous laugh from Ludwig. Ludwig sitting at the kitchen table and Lukas plopping down beside of him and leaning in so close to talk that his nose was practically bumping Ludwig's cheek, earning him an anxious smile and a scoot of Ludwig's chair. Ludwig wandering about outside and Lukas melding in beside of him and tossing an arm around his shoulders, inducing an uneasy tensing and quicker pace from Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Lukas didn't seem to realize how damn unnerving he was. Well. At least Ludwig wasn't left alone for very long. Maybe that was a good thing. Less time to think and mope.</p>
  <p>Spring improved most moods.</p>
  <p>Berwald was content to enjoy the warmer air and the first sight of color. As soon as breakfast was finished, he made a beeline for the door, yanking on his boots and stepping out into the spring breeze.</p>
  <p>Someone had beaten him outdoors.</p>
  <p>Lukas.</p>
  <p>Lounging in a chair, bare feet resting on the railing and arms crossed behind his head, he stared up at the blue sky and hummed to himself, swaying one foot cheerfully in the air. Berwald decided to join him. It had been a long time since he'd sat down with Lukas. Lukas rolled his head over to the side, and eyed him up and down.</p>
  <p>"Morning. Sleep well?"</p>
  <p>"Yup."</p>
  <p>With that, Lukas turned his eyes back to the sky, and resumed his humming.</p>
  <p>Berwald looked out to the mountains, and saw the birds flying up above the forests, coming back from their winter migrations. He felt rather mellow. In no rush to start the day.</p>
  <p>Lukas, on the other hand, was ready to engage in conversation, as he so frequently was.</p>
  <p>"So. Mind telling me what exactly this is all about?"</p>
  <p>All this? Ludwig, no doubt.</p>
  <p>"Why d'ya need to hear all this again? Didn't they already tell ya?" he muttered, as he propped his own boots up on the railing beside of Lukas', and Lukas only fell still, and then gave a snort.</p>
  <p>"Well, I'd like to hear a version that's a little less dramatic, if it's all the same with you."</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus <em>did </em>have a flair for drama.</p>
  <p>So, he told Lukas everything he'd missed. Without the excess excitement and extravagant gesturing. He also spared his own pride, and omitted his inability to take Ludwig down on multiple occasions. For all the good it did. Magnus had already told Lukas all of that, for sure. Lukas listened quietly and carefully, and didn't interrupt. When Berwald wrapped up the tale, he crossed one foot atop the other and said, "And that's about it."</p>
  <p>"Hm. Thanks."</p>
  <p>Lukas seemed happy to leave it at that.</p>
  <p>Berwald glanced over at him through narrowed eyes of annoyance, and when Lukas stayed silent, he prodded, "Well?"</p>
  <p>"What?"</p>
  <p>"What d'ya think? No opinion?"</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>Berwald waited. Lukas gawked up at the sky, foot swaying back and forth.</p>
  <p>No answer.</p>
  <p>"Well?"</p>
  <p>"Hm?"</p>
  <p>Fuckin' psycho.</p>
  <p>"What's your opinion?"</p>
  <p>"Oh."</p>
  <p>Finally moving a little, Lukas rolled his head back over and met his gaze, and the dreamy smile on his face was a little irritating. Nothing ever bothered Lukas.</p>
  <p>"I say more is better. That was some luck that you two came across each other."</p>
  <p>"I don't know. Maybe I went about it all the wrong way. Maybe I shoulda just left him there."</p>
  <p>"Why? Everything worked out just fine, didn't it?"</p>
  <p>Berwald scoffed, and reached up to rub the center of his forehead as the familiar old pang of self-doubt came creeping up.</p>
  <p>"Yeah! But that was all luck. I didn't know what was gonna happen. How could I have known? It coulda turned out the other way, easy. I shoulda thought about it more. I should make better decisions. I don't know what I'm doin'."</p>
  <p>An odd stillness. Wind blowing through the trees.</p>
  <p>He didn't trust himself to do the right thing when it was needed.</p>
  <p>Now Lukas sat up and leaned forward, as close now to Berwald as he ever was to Ludwig, eyes wide and alert and oddly excited, and when he spoke, his distant voice had sharpened and clarified. He was nearly bristling with what could very well have been exhilaration.</p>
  <p>A breathless statement.</p>
  <p>"Don't doubt yourself. This Ragnarök has already started. Brothers killing brothers. Mothers and sisters suffering. The wolf is loose. The world's on fire. Thinking about what you might have done or what might have happened won't do anyone any good. Someone has to be Odin now, in this mess. You're the leader. We look to you. We trust you. We'll follow you. And who knows? Maybe it wasn't luck at all. Maybe you were meant to bring him here. He could be the turning of the tide. It only takes one spark to set off a chain reaction."</p>
  <p>He might have been scared of Lukas then, a little, if not for that name. Odin.</p>
  <p>Did Lukas really admire him so? Misplaced faith.</p>
  <p>Caught in Lukas' intensity, Berwald could only shake his head, and mutter, "You make it sound like we're really gonna accomplish somethin'. What does it matter? Even with Ludwig, we still won't make a difference. We can't turn the war around."</p>
  <p>"Nope," Lukas responded, breezily, "Sure can't! But if I can get out there and just save one person or make everything harder for the occupiers, then that's good enough for me." He leaned back into his seat, and sent Berwald a cool glance. "Can't save the world, but saving one person is more than you'd ever do if you just went back home. You saved Ludwig, didn't you?"</p>
  <p>No. Ludwig had saved himself, through perseverance and boldness. He hadn't done that.</p>
  <p>"I didn't save him. That was luck."</p>
  <p>"Oh? How so?"</p>
  <p>"You got caught. If not—"</p>
  <p>"You'd have shot him?"</p>
  <p>Lukas was staring at him again, in that fixed, unnerving way.</p>
  <p>He shifted, uneasily, and stayed silent.</p>
  <p>"You had a gun, didn't you? You picked him up and brought him home before I even left. You could have shot him out there in the field. You didn't. You brought him here instead. And it just so happened that this is exactly where he had intended to be. So. You saved him."</p>
  <p>"If you say so."</p>
  <p>Lukas snorted.</p>
  <p>"You should worry about things less. What happens will happen. If you were as big a screw-up as you think you are, we'd have all bailed out on you a long time ago. You're a good leader. I'm glad to follow you. I'm sure everyone else thinks the same. Even Ludwig."</p>
  <p>He could feel the warmth on his cheeks. He wished he could talk like Lukas, and say so honestly whatever came to mind.</p>
  <p>"So," Berwald finally muttered, a little embarrassed, "Has he told you why he's runnin'?"</p>
  <p>A valid attempt at changing the conversation. And besides, Ludwig's reasons were something of curiosity, even to himself.</p>
  <p>Lukas only repositioned his hands back behind his head and said, airily, "I haven't asked."</p>
  <p>"Oh? Yer so good at bein' nosy I was sure you'd already pried it outta him. What the hell you guys talk about all the time, then?"</p>
  <p>Lukas smiled.</p>
  <p>"Things." His embarrassment intensified when Lukas smiled in a creepy, lopsided way, and added, "You."</p>
  <p>...<em>him</em>?</p>
  <p>A horrible rush of anxiety and self-consciousness. His worst fear; people talking about him when he wasn't there. He worried <em>so </em>much about how others saw him. So much. He worried about the impression he left upon those he met. Even if Lukas was just teasing him a little, knowing his fears, it was still alarming to wonder what Ludwig really thought about him.</p>
  <p>He didn't have time to ask.</p>
  <p>A voice from behind.</p>
  <p>"I thought I heard my name. You guys talkin' about me?"</p>
  <p>They wrenched back their heads at the same time, to see Ludwig standing there, leaning against the doorframe. Who knew how long he'd been standing there. Hadn't even heard him approaching.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself in Ludwig's sights, but before he could open his mouth to respond, Lukas twisted in his seat and stared up at Ludwig with a strange, leering smile.</p>
  <p>"Yes, we were. I was saying that you make me think of Vidarr. Say, Ludwig, did you know that when Fenrir swallowed Odin whole, it was Vidarr who killed the wolf to avenge him?"</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>Well, that was...random.</p>
  <p>Ludwig started to fidget, as he often did when Lukas was staring at him, and finally said, "Oh. Eh—<em>what</em>?"</p>
  <p>"Didn't you learn any of this in school?"</p>
  <p>"Any of <em>what</em>?"</p>
  <p>Poor Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Berwald rolled his eyes, even as the churn of unease suddenly lit up his veins. The death of Odin. Hadn't Lukas referred to <em>him </em>as Odin before? The leader. The man in charge. And Odin had been devoured by the great wolf. The great wolf now was the war machine, setting the world ablaze right before their eyes.</p>
  <p>Lukas babbled away to Ludwig about things that no normal person would really even understand, but Ludwig just listened and nodded his head anyway—</p>
  <p>—<em>Unfettered will fare the Fenris Wolf and ravaged the realm of men, ere that cometh a kingly prince as good, to stand in his stead</em>—</p>
  <p>—and humored him, smiling even though he couldn't possibly have comprehended.</p>
  <p>The smooth flowing of Lukas' voice above the breeze was like an eerily calming creek. Berwald tried to clear his mind of strange thoughts, and focus on other things.</p>
  <p>Lukas was truly a strange man.</p>
  <p>But, even with the unease he brought, Berwald was grateful for Lukas, who had (perhaps inadvertently) done him a great service and saved him from what could have been an absolute meltdown not so long ago, whatever unknowing warnings he uttered now.</p>
  <p>It had happened the day after Lukas had returned. Ludwig, in Timo's bed, and Timo in Lukas'. There had been a sudden conversation amongst them before bedtime.</p>
  <p>'Who sleeps where?'</p>
  <p>It had twisted Berwald's stomach like a fuckin' <em>knife </em>when Magnus had piped up and said, 'Well, Timo! Looks like you're out a bed! Guess you're on the couch. Unless, you know, you don't mind sharing. You could stay in my room—er, if you want to!'</p>
  <p>Oh, <em>god</em>, never had his heart raced like it had then, and never had there been such a rush of horror and anger and <em>hurt</em>. He could have died. He loved Timo, he was sure he did, and seeing Timo look at someone else just stung too much.</p>
  <p>It only got worse when Timo had turned to Magnus, and said, 'Well, you snore pretty bad, but I guess I can live with that!'</p>
  <p>Berwald had nearly gone berserk, and who knew where <em>that </em>would have led, although the motive for why would have been hard to explain.</p>
  <p>A sudden savior.</p>
  <p>Lukas, weirdo, had stepped forward to where silent Ludwig had been watching the conversation, and quickly slung an arm around Ludwig's shoulders as he met Berwald's gaze.</p>
  <p>'Say!' he'd began, 'Don't worry about it! Timo can have his bed back. Me and Ludwig will share. I can tell we're gonna get along really well.' Turning to Ludwig, Lukas had pulled him in and shaken him, gently, adding, 'Right?'</p>
  <p>Ludwig had sputtered a bit, cheeks flushed, before finally conceding with a thin, 'R-right! No problem. Sure, sure, that's—that's fine!'</p>
  <p>Ludwig had agreed, sure, but the constant shuffling back and forth and the twiddling of his thumbs in the loops of his belt were clear indicators that he was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with a complete stranger, and especially one as <em>strange</em> as Lukas.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's mental comfort or no, crisis averted.</p>
  <p>It should have been a relief. But the way Timo and Magnus' faces had <em>fallen</em>? Really hadn't made him feel all that much better. Like someone had snatched the rug out from right under their feet. A smile of regret from Magnus. A lifted brow and lidded eyes of resignation. Of having something within his grasp that he <em>desperately </em>wanted only to have it slip through his fingers.</p>
  <p>Berwald knew that smile well. He'd worn it a few times.</p>
  <p>Anyway, the fact of the matter was that Magnus was sleeping very much alone, and that was all that he cared about.</p>
  <p>Poor Ludwig, though.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>The flowers were starting to bloom. A week passed, and then two. And then suddenly, before he really even knew it, Ludwig had been with them for two months.</p>
  <p>Two months.</p>
  <p>Where had <em>that </em>time gone? It still felt like yesterday that the field had been lit up like an inferno.</p>
  <p>Since then, not much had changed, except that Timo had been experimenting with light facial hair, Magnus had actually started combing his own hair before he came out of his room, Berwald had stopped double-taking whenever he saw Ludwig, and Lukas and Ludwig had become close.</p>
  <p>Well. As close as two people as odd and unreadable as Lukas and Ludwig could ever be. With those two together, who really knew how they felt about each other? Even if they hadn't gotten along at all, it would have been hard to tell, since Ludwig was so patient and quiet and Lukas was so dreamy and aloof. From what Berwald could grasp of them, they seemed like two peas in a pod; almost always together, almost always muttering away to each other in hushed tones, and almost always falling back toward each other when other ventures stopped short.</p>
  <p>Magnus would stop and look at them sometimes, standing in a corner or leaning against the wall, and say, with a smile, 'Aha! There they are! Hamlet and Horatio! It's great to see you guys gettin' along so well!'</p>
  <p>Berwald could only narrow his eyes and shift his weight, not understanding the references that Magnus made. No doubt Shakespeare, one of quirky Magnus' unusual passions. Where Lukas had mythology, Magnus had Shakespeare. And, like Lukas, he wasn't afraid to whip it out and shove it down your throat.</p>
  <p>It hadn't helped Berwald's hatred of Magnus when he had learned early on that not only was Magnus loud, obnoxious, self-confident, bold, aggressive, outgoing, and charming, but that he was also <em>smart</em>, and very well-spoken whenever he chose to be. A triple threat. Hearing Magnus suddenly burst into emphatic prose (usually in Timo's presence), sometimes while assuming a dramatic stance on one knee or holding a hand before his face, and reciting passages and passages from memory alone was a little <em>alarming</em>.</p>
  <p>Couldn't compete.</p>
  <p>Berwald would always be the looming shadow in the back, staring over still and silent as Magnus charmed Timo right off his goddamn feet. Literally; sometimes Magnus was <em>so </em>funny that Timo laughed so hard he doubled over and fell right back onto the floor in tears. Timo's laugh—his <em>real </em>laugh—was something that only Magnus could draw out. A full-blown, snorting, unstoppable chortle that usually left him red-faced and breathless, it was nothing at all like that nervous little titter that he gave Berwald whenever they spoke.</p>
  <p>Not even the same planet.</p>
  <p>It was great to hear it, though, even if he wasn't the one that had elicited it. He seemed to hear it a lot more now. No surprise; now that Lukas was usually found at Ludwig's side, that meant that Magnus and Timo had become inseparable. Lukas, who had been a savior before, had somehow unwittingly become Magnus' springboard.</p>
  <p>A short reprieve had been granted when Magnus had left for a week to go sneaking around Denmark close to the shore, doing whatever the hell he did when he went there.</p>
  <p>Berwald had thought he would have a great chance set out before him.</p>
  <p>Yet that whole week, Timo had only sat there by the window, staring out into the mountains, chin held in his palm, looking pale and tired and a little sick. He hadn't eaten much, no matter how hard Ludwig poked and prodded him, and he looked so worried and so <em>sad </em>that Berwald hadn't had the heart to even try to speak to him.</p>
  <p>Timo just sat there, and stared. Watching the drive. Didn't talk much.</p>
  <p>It was obvious as to why, but it still hurt to have it proven when Magnus came back, and Timo returned to his old self like the blooming of spring. As soon as Magnus had walked back through that door, the circles under Timo's eyes had all but vanished. No more gloom. They stood there at the door, smiling at each other like they hadn't seen each other in a month instead of just a week.</p>
  <p>Berwald could feel the uphill battle. Magnus was already nearing the top, as Berwald stood down below, hands on his knees and gasping for breath. He couldn't keep up. He couldn't win outright, not against Magnus. Not head on.</p>
  <p>Nothing he did ever really seemed to make Timo look at him twice. Magnus didn't even <em>try</em>, and Timo couldn't take his fuckin' eyes off of him.</p>
  <p>When Magnus came back, Timo forgot entirely that Berwald even existed.</p>
  <p>He was ready to give up, honestly. He couldn't win. Timo didn't look at him. Conceding hurt, though, so he still pretended.</p>
  <p>Lukas may have become a springboard for Magnus, but Ludwig had become Berwald's, whether he knew it or not. Timo had looked so proud when he had extended a helping hand to Ludwig that night, and so it was only natural that the next step in this different war was to use Ludwig as much as he could to draw Timo's eye.</p>
  <p>Timo liked Ludwig, had all along, so it pleased him when Berwald interacted with him.</p>
  <p>In an effort to get that look again and try to raise himself up in good standing with Timo, Berwald went out of his way to offer awkward verbal support to Ludwig when he looked down, and to make sure that he always had something to do and that he was never in the dark for anything.</p>
  <p>When he did, Timo just smiled.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't feel completely like he was <em>using </em>Ludwig. Well—maybe he <em>was</em>, but it wasn't like it was for a bad purpose, and it wasn't like Ludwig was getting hurt, so no harm, no foul.</p>
  <p>Befriend Ludwig, win over Timo. It seemed simple, in theory.</p>
  <p>It didn't really occur to him, as mesmerized in Timo's proud smile as he was, that maybe his actions were being misinterpreted by Ludwig. He should have noticed more the way Ludwig had started looking at him.</p>
  <p>Small things.</p>
  <p>In the mornings, after breakfast, when Timo was still sitting at the table and finishing his coffee, Berwald would pull himself to his feet and walk over to the sink and immerse his hands in the water to help Ludwig with the dishes. Timo would twist in his chair, watch him with a raised brow, and break into a pleased smile.</p>
  <p>In the afternoons, when Berwald and Timo sat out together at the picnic table, playing a game of cards, Berwald would wait until Timo was looking at him before he turned over to where Magnus and Lukas were cajoling Ludwig, and say, 'Ludwig, come play.' Ludwig did, coming over with a smile that was almost that of disbelief, and Timo glanced over Berwald, and nodded his head in approval.</p>
  <p>In the evenings, Berwald made sure that he offered the seat beside of him on the couch to Ludwig, and was very quick to offer his own rifles up to be cleaned by hands other than his own, no matter how uneasy it made him. Timo glanced up from above his own guns, and leered away.</p>
  <p>At night, whether they had been drinking or not, Berwald always made it a point to say 'goodnight' to Ludwig, if either one of them retired before the other. Timo would look over at Ludwig and then at Berwald, and beam.</p>
  <p>It really wasn't hard at all to get Timo to look at him like that, whenever Ludwig was around. Ludwig was truly a blessing. Lukas had been right; maybe it had not been an accident that they had encountered each other.</p>
  <p>During every occasion, every circumstance, every word and every helping hand and every action, Ludwig just stood there, and stared at him. A strange, barely visible ghost of a smile on his face. A tilted head and a high brow of curiosity. Something else, too, underneath.</p>
  <p>Berwald should have noticed.</p>
  <p>He still spoke to Ludwig and made an effort to be friendly even when Timo wasn't around, but the effort was considerably less enthusiastic, and much less verbal. Not that he didn't like talking to Ludwig, but they were both already pretty quiet by nature, and sometimes when he did speak, Ludwig looked at him with confusion. It was mortifying, a little, to realize that half the time Ludwig didn't even understand him when he spoke.</p>
  <p>His accent was too thick.</p>
  <p>Sometimes it took Ludwig a moment to respond to him, after thinking hard about what Berwald was trying to say. That alone kept his tongue. Embarrassing. He probably didn't say some words right at all, and Ludwig had to fill in blanks and guess at what he was attempting to communicate. He had to repeat himself frequently, after Ludwig would say, 'Huh? What was that?'</p>
  <p>German still felt too strange coming from his own mouth.</p>
  <p>At any rate, miscommunication aside, Ludwig had finally started to really settle in, although due to his friendliness or not he couldn't say, and his stance was nothing but relaxed around them.</p>
  <p>Maybe it was time to move on.</p>
  <p>It had been time for a while now. They were starting to become restless, or at least Timo was. Time to go out again. This time, Ludwig would have to come along. <em>How</em>? What could they do that would break him in easy? After posing this question to Timo, it was decided that they needed to have a meeting, of sorts, about the subject. They didn't involve Ludwig in the discussions. Didn't feel right. Sitting there and talking about what they would expose him to and make him do? He didn't need to hear all of that.</p>
  <p>The first meeting was, like so much else, all but bust. No good ideas.</p>
  <p>They carried on with daily life, and waited for the next opportunity to talk.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, oblivious, walked around with Lukas as he often did, having no clue that Lukas was thinking about how they were going to drag him out into battle, even as they chatted together.</p>
  <p>It had to happen sooner or later. Better to just go ahead and get it over with.</p>
  <p>One cool night, as spring rain pounded the shingles atop the timber house, they all sat together, but nobody was talking about where they were going next. Just small talk.</p>
  <p>A calm, friendly, warm night.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig sat together, as always, crooning away. Berwald found that it wasn't really so bothersome now, to see Ludwig and Magnus sitting beside of each other. Better than Magnus sitting with Timo.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was wearing Lukas' clothes now.</p>
  <p>Berwald was half-drunk in the corner. Too much vodka. Magnus drank way too much, yeah, sure, and so did Timo, but Berwald wasn't exactly a saint himself. He didn't drink as frequently as Magnus, but when he did drink, he drank hard. He'd been hitting sketchy bars back when he'd been fourteen. Maybe nothing to be proud of.</p>
  <p>Hours passed, the moon was high, and everyone was drunk. Getting there, at any rate. Conversations became more active. So did Ludwig. Vodka must have helped his nerves, too.</p>
  <p>"So," Ludwig said, smiling a bit as the alcohol tinted his cheeks, "What did you guys do before the war?"</p>
  <p>Ah. A trip down memory lane.</p>
  <p>Magnus was the first to answer, tucked into Ludwig's side that he was, and it was with a sloppy grin and a little bit of pride that he said, "I worked on a farm!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig only smiled, incredulously, and certainly he didn't believe it, as he said, "A farm or a distillery?"</p>
  <p>Magnus was serious, and when he chortled and said, "I milked the cows!" Ludwig's eyes widened and he looked almost abashed at having been dismissive. Magnus saw, and waved a careless hand in the air. "Hey, it was good work! Butter and milk are a lot more expensive now, you know. Workin' there though, I started getting a little chubby. Maybe it's better I left, huh?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig snorted.</p>
  <p>Magnus' smile fell a bit, and he added, a little darkly, "Well...all that stuff goes to the soldiers now, for all it matters."</p>
  <p>A short moment of tense silence, as Ludwig shifted awkwardly, before Lukas, ever oblivious, piped up, "I worked under a chemist. Mostly errands and papers, but I learned a lot just watching him."</p>
  <p>Timo lifted his head, eyes bleary and smiling, and said, "Carpenter during the week, farmer on the weekends. Sometimes I sold kalja outside the saunas."</p>
  <p>A pause. And suddenly, everyone was looking at <em>him</em>. Ludwig's cool, lidded eyes observed him with interest.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell. Finally, after a deep breath, Berwald raised his glass up and managed to grumble, lowly, "I had a fishing boat."</p>
  <p>Ludwig tilted his head, and, knowing that his cheeks had flushed, Berwald put back his drink in an effort to appear unfazed.</p>
  <p>A little embarrassing to say.</p>
  <p>Not in front of Magnus, who knew manual labor, or Lukas, who understood barely scraping by, or Timo, who had worked harder than any of them, but in front of Ludwig, with his well-bred features and unintentionally haughty air and intelligent eyes, whose hands were large and smooth and quick. Ludwig, who had obviously born a proud name back in Germany.</p>
  <p>How he was thought about by others. His greatest fear.</p>
  <p>"Well?" Timo suddenly asked, his voice a bit loud and slurred. "What about you Ludwig? What'd you do?"</p>
  <p>Now everyone's eyes were on Ludwig, and for once, he looked uncertain and put on the spot and awkward.</p>
  <p>He shifted his weight, and finally, looking over at Timo a bit guiltily, he managed a weak, "Well, I didn't really... That is, I—my brother took care of...well..." He trailed off, face red, and finally summed up with an embarrassed, "I mean, I've only ever been a soldier. My brother never let me work. I was going to go back to school, after the war."</p>
  <p>"That sounds <em>nice</em>," Magnus drawled, blind to Ludwig's embarrassment, and Berwald sent him a testy look when Ludwig sank back into the couch, looking mortified.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't surprised. He'd assumed as much.</p>
  <p>Ludwig hadn't grown up in the desolate countryside like all of them, where it was hard to make a living and hard to make end's meet, and sometimes hard to even have food, and he felt out of place now amongst them, hearing tales of hard labor when he'd never really known any. Well, who could help where they were born? Not Ludwig's fault he'd been bred into a good family.</p>
  <p>Lukas, keen on Ludwig's mood, leaned toward him and said, silkily, "Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of. I've always wanted to have a brother to look after, so I can see why he took such good care of you. I think we'd all like to have someone watching out for us like that."</p>
  <p>Timo, falling back into his chair and hugging the bottle of vodka to his chest, muttered, "Hear, hear!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig only reached up and ran a restless hand through his hair, trying his best to keep his face blank.</p>
  <p>"Well," Timo said, when there was only silence, "Don't worry. We'll work you twice as hard, since you've missed out on so much."</p>
  <p>Magnus and Timo dissolved into titters, and Ludwig only smiled, as he looked over at Berwald and twitched his head a bit. What? Unsure of exactly what Ludwig was trying to convey, if anything at all, Berwald only shrugged a restless shoulder and took another glass.</p>
  <p>Ludwig quickly looked away.</p>
  <p>Magnus finally stopped giggling, and slapped Ludwig on the back.</p>
  <p>The conversation became much lighter as full-blown intoxication took hold. Reliving past experiences and dreaming about the things they'd do after the war.</p>
  <p>Magnus reached out and slung an arm around Ludwig's shoulders, turning to him with bleary eyes and slurring, "So, Ludde! You're kinda handsome! Did you have a girl back home, huh?"</p>
  <p>Magnus shook Ludwig with particular enthusiasm, no doubt spurred on by the deep flush of red that had spread across Ludwig's face. Timo leaned forward, so drunk that he almost fell flat on his face, and joined in the teasing.</p>
  <p>"I bet he did! Look, he's blushing!"</p>
  <p>As they giggled, Ludwig reached up and tried to shove Magnus off, looking hassled and mortified as he cried, "N-no! I didn't!"</p>
  <p>"Come on!" Magnus goaded, refusing to be shaken off, clinging to Ludwig like a horrible spider, "Why're ya so embarrassed? Huh? Come on, did you? Was she pretty? I bet she was! Just tell me! Why don't you wanna tell me?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig finally huffed, and shoved irritably at Magnus' chest, looking for all the world as though he could have keeled over right there, hissing, "B-because! I didn't have one!"</p>
  <p>Magnus' smile never faltered.</p>
  <p>"How come?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig sputtered something incomprehensible, at least to him, and his whole face had turned red now, as he stared down into his lap and sighed away. They never really got a good answer out of him, and Ludwig effectively managed to divert the questions when he looked up at Berwald and asked, "What about you? No one waiting back home?"</p>
  <p>Hardly.</p>
  <p>Timo gave a strange, gasping laugh that he tried to turn into a cough.</p>
  <p>"Yeah right!" Magnus drawled, before Berwald could even open his mouth. "Ha, that's a bachelor for life, right there."</p>
  <p>Ludwig only smiled.</p>
  <p>Berwald was too damn drunk to really even comprehend Magnus' words, let alone be mad. He could barely see.</p>
  <p>He didn't remember much after that.</p>
  <p>The next thing he knew, it was nearly noon, and he was on his back on his bed, still in his clothes and with a monster of a headache. Ludwig stood in the doorframe, looking a little unkempt and a little queasy, and held in his hands a cup of coffee.</p>
  <p>"I knocked earlier," he said, as he came in and set the mug down on the end-table, "But you were sleepin' like a rock."</p>
  <p>Feeling the nausea churning, Berwald could only reach out blindly for his glasses, and try to keep himself from throwing up right there. When he finally managed to sit upright, he expected Ludwig to turn and walk out. But Ludwig lingered there, and the look on his face was odd.</p>
  <p>Finally, Berwald rasped, "What?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig fell back a step towards the door, and said, simply, "Nothing!"</p>
  <p>With that, he turned on his heel and left.</p>
  <p>Not a minute too soon. As soon as the door clicked shut, Berwald pitched forward and grabbed the trashcan.</p>
  <p>He was out of commission that day, nursing his hangover and not even going into the kitchen to eat. Just because he was down didn't mean that the others were, and apparently Timo had decided to have a little fun at his expense.</p>
  <p>The next morning, when he finally came crawling downstairs at Ludwig's call, he could immediately see the way that Timo was hiding a smile behind his napkin, and felt the creep of suspicion. Couldn't leave these guys alone for even a day.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus whispered to each other, and by the time it was noon again, what they were up to became apparent.</p>
  <p>After lunch, Ludwig crept up behind him when he was heading for the door, and stopped him.</p>
  <p>"Hey." Ludwig looked him up and down, and then said, "I just wanted to say thanks."</p>
  <p>"For what?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig smiled, pleasantly.</p>
  <p>"For giving me your gun! I really like the German scope on it. Timo told me that it really meant a lot to you, so I just wanted to tell you that I promise I'll take really good care of it."</p>
  <p>A silence.</p>
  <p>...<em>what</em>?</p>
  <p>His mouth dropped open, no sound came out, and the very first thought that crossed his mind was to pitch an absolute fit, because damn <em>right </em>that gun meant a lot to him! That gun had saved his ass on several occasions, it had never failed him in anything, and—</p>
  <p>"So, thanks."</p>
  <p>Oh—! Dammit.</p>
  <p>Seeing that smile on Ludwig's face, Berwald's goddamn politeness took over and he heard himself say, weakly, "Yeah... Yeah, sure. Welcome. Yeah."</p>
  <p>It was said through clenched teeth and a stiff jaw, but Ludwig smiled all the same, and, with a nod of his head, turned and disappeared out the door. Berwald stood there in an agitated shock, not sure of what to do. What could he do? Just walk up to Ludwig and say, 'Oh, sorry, Timo was fuckin' with you, this gun is mine'? He couldn't do that. That wasn't who he was. And Timo <em>knew </em>it.</p>
  <p>It would have been easy to blame Magnus, but he felt Timo's hand upon this, for sure.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell. Before he could figure out what to do with himself, the front door opened and Ludwig popped his head back in, and said, "Say! They want me to go try it out down by the woods. If you wanna come..."</p>
  <p>"Sure," he grunted, automatically, and Ludwig's smile was wider than ever.</p>
  <p>Even as he straightened his unbuttoned collar and followed Ludwig out into the cool, crisp spring air, he was bitching away in his head. He was going to have to lay down some new rules.</p>
  <p>Rule number five : don't touch Berwald's goddamn guns.</p>
  <p>Rule number six : don't give away Berwald's goddamn guns.</p>
  <p>Rule number seven : don't even <em>look </em>at Berwald's goddamn guns.</p>
  <p>He couldn't be mad at Ludwig, who was bounding ahead through the young, bright grass with wide, eager strides. Wasn't his fault.</p>
  <p>"There you are!" came a cry down by the forest's edge, and Berwald, over Ludwig's shoulder, could see the others waiting below, and Timo held in his hands Berwald's <em>goddamn </em>gun.</p>
  <p>The smile on Timo's face was visible even from a distance.</p>
  <p>Seeing that rifle in someone else's hands was exceedingly unpleasant. Left a very bitter taste in the back of his throat that not even the blue sky and green grass and bright sun could get rid of. When they approached, it only got worse.</p>
  <p>"Berwald!" Timo crooned, in a deceptively pleasant voice, "It was so sweet of you to give him this one!"</p>
  <p>Magnus' grin was so wide Berwald was surprised it fit on his face.</p>
  <p>Lukas, always oblivious, said, "Sure was. It suits him though. That was a good call."</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked happy as a clam, however, and Berwald had neither the heart nor the will to ruin it for him, and finally ground out, "You don't say."</p>
  <p>Timo drew back his arm and chucked the rifle straight at Ludwig's chest, and it took every ounce of restraint that Berwald possessed to keep his hands from flying up to cover his eyes and let out a loud gasp as his most prized possession was flying through the air like a toy. Ludwig, for the good of everyone there, caught it in sure hands, and Berwald hissed out a short sigh of relief.</p>
  <p>Timo spoke to Ludwig then, but his eyes were settled on Berwald (that smug <em>smile</em>!) the whole time.</p>
  <p>"Well, let's test you out, then!"</p>
  <p>"Right!" Ludwig said, his voice unusually clear and smooth in what was obviously excitement, and Berwald didn't have much of a choice but to just stand there, and watch.</p>
  <p>Guess it was Ludwig's gun, now.</p>
  <p>Shit. Did Timo <em>really </em>have to give away his favorite? Was this some kind of <em>test</em>? Was Timo just that <em>bored</em>, since they hadn't gone out for months?</p>
  <p>...maybe he shouldn't have hovered over Ludwig so much in front of Timo.</p>
  <p>Too late now.</p>
  <p>Anyway, the most important thing to focus on in this particular instant was the fact that Ludwig was giving his former rifle a very thorough looking over, and Timo was scurrying deep into the trees to place something up in the pine branches. After squinting, Berwald could see it was a glass from the kitchen. Ah. First his gun, and now his mugs.</p>
  <p>The crunching of boots upon shed pine needles, and in a minute, Timo's blond head had popped back into the sun.</p>
  <p>"All yours," he said, quite cheerily, and Ludwig only sent him a rather haughty lift of his chin.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't exactly sold.</p>
  <p>People said they could shoot all the time, but some really couldn't. The gun looked right at home in Ludwig's hands, sure, but that didn't necessarily mean he would be particularly useful. The rifles all looked just as good in Magnus' hands, too, but Magnus couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.</p>
  <p>Berwald wouldn't have been terribly disappointed if Ludwig missed, if only to spare a hapless mug.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, now that the Gevär was firmly in his grasp, looked more confident and comfortable than he ever had out here. Standing straight up at his full height, no slumping or slouching, shoulders steady and braced and chin up, he looked ready to prove himself and eager to engage.</p>
  <p>Lukas came creeping over silently to Berwald's side, and peered at him. A quiet whisper.</p>
  <p>"Timo?"</p>
  <p>"Yup."</p>
  <p>"I imagined so."</p>
  <p>Maybe Lukas wasn't as oblivious as he appeared to be.</p>
  <p>Speaking of Timo, he was standing there off to the side, arms crossed above his chest and grinning away, glancing over at Berwald and raising up a brow like he'd never done anything wrong.</p>
  <p>Crouching down on one knee, hands positioned perfectly and eagle eye in front of the scope, Ludwig moved the rifle back and forth in slow, careful movements, observing every detail and angle, looking very comfortable. Getting used to the feel of a gun in his hands again.</p>
  <p>"Careful!" Magnus teased, amicably, "Think about it too long and you're gonna miss."</p>
  <p>"I don't <em>miss</em>," Ludwig threw back in a slow drawl, and Magnus only laughed, loudly.</p>
  <p>"Sure you don't!"</p>
  <p>A second of shifting and observing.</p>
  <p>"What's the matter, am I messin' up your concentration? Don't try to blame bad aim on me if you miss—"</p>
  <p>Bang.</p>
  <p>A shatter from within the still forest. A hit.</p>
  <p>Ludwig gave a short, stiff, "Hm!"</p>
  <p>Well. Looked like Berwald's gun was going to be good to its new owner.</p>
  <p>Ludwig only smiled, keeping his rifle in its position as he shifted his shoulders up and down. His confidence looked like it had gone through the roof. Like he'd found his place out here with just one bullet.</p>
  <p>Maybe so. A good shot was always a welcome addition. It helped to make them a reliable group, and everyone with different strengths. Lukas, the master of cables and chemicals. Fearless and steady. Timo, mathematical and extremely resourceful. Improvising and tough. Ludwig, a good shot, and with mechanical abilities. Bold and calculating.</p>
  <p>Himself, perhaps a better shot. The leader.</p>
  <p>And Magnus?</p>
  <p>Well. He couldn't exactly think of what Magnus was good at. Not really. Average mechanical talents, maybe, but that didn't make up for being a bad shot. Of course, if he had asked Timo, he would have been given a long list of Magnus' strengths and abilities. He was happier with only knowing what Magnus was bad at.</p>
  <p>"Alright," Magnus finally said, clapping a hand on Ludwig's shoulder, "I give. You're a damn good shot."</p>
  <p>For a horrible moment, that breathless look of confidence on Ludwig's face faded into something darker, and he stood up, pressing the butt of the rifle into the ground as he whispered, oddly, "Yeah. Good shot, all right. ...that's about <em>all</em> I'm good at."</p>
  <p>A rather dreary silence, as Magnus' face fell as much as Ludwig's, and they spared a look at each other. Two confident individuals who were, perhaps, not really all that confident in themselves at all.</p>
  <p>"Well," came Magnus' false voice of casualness, "At least you're good at <em>somethin</em>'."</p>
  <p>Berwald felt a squirm of guilt, a bit hard to place.</p>
  <p>The mood took a bit of a downturn after that, and Ludwig stayed down by the trees to test out the rifle. A good opportunity to speak, so the others went back up sat in the kitchen, deciding Ludwig's fate for him. He was a good shot, after all; wanted him to stay.</p>
  <p>After hours of quiet conversation, tossed ideas, it was Lukas who finally came up with a way to test Ludwig without the risk of pushing him too far or too fast.</p>
  <p>It was in a similar fashion as to how Ludwig came to be here.</p>
  <p>It was too soon to take Ludwig to either border, and there was scarcely anything to do in Sweden except sabotage the trains. And actually seeing a train full of German soldiers would have been far too much, so Lukas had suggested a compromise. Rather, the compromising of the railroad tracks themselves. Take Ludwig out and show him how to light up a stick of dynamite. Ruin the track in a small spot. Delay a transport for days. Done. That was that.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could do that, right? It wasn't actually hurting anyone, and it was a very simple first step. That was what they had all thought when they had agreed upon it, and not even two days had passed before they acted on it.</p>
  <p>They left.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, not knowing what to expect, sat in the backseat and stared out of the window as they drove, wringing his hands anxiously in his lap, barely listening as Lukas spoke to him quietly.</p>
  <p>It was easy.</p>
  <p>Berwald tried to stay optimistic. It <em>had </em>to be easy, because if Ludwig couldn't do <em>this</em>, then there was no hope. He wouldn't be able to stay.</p>
  <p>Hours of driving.</p>
  <p>Pulling into the flat field and stepping out into the high amber grass had been a little exciting, if only just to get out for a while.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't quite as enthusiastic. It took him a while to get out of the car, and when he did, he looked around at the vacant, uninhabited place, and said, simply, "What's this?"</p>
  <p>Berwald and Timo shared a look, but didn't speak. He wasn't exactly sure what to say that would really be of any comfort. Nothing would be, really. Had to be done, though. Ludwig needed to know what living with them really meant. It wasn't just nights of sitting in a cozy living room and drinking with friends.</p>
  <p>"Come on," Lukas finally said, as he came up to Ludwig's side. "It's over here."</p>
  <p>Tugging Ludwig along, Lukas led the way, and Berwald could only follow behind. Timo hung back, and kept watch over the car.</p>
  <p>The tracks were visible after a few minutes of pushing through weeds and thorns, and it was obvious by the time they got there that Ludwig was already annoyed, as he picked bristles and briars from the fabric of his pants.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been in such a good mood days before.</p>
  <p><em>Had </em>to be done.</p>
  <p>They were standing before the tracks. Ludwig stared down at them, and stuck his hands in his pockets.</p>
  <p>Lukas reached into his own pockets, and pulled out two sticks of dynamite. One for each track. Ludwig saw the flash of red and the fuse, and his eyes narrowed so much that they were barely slits.</p>
  <p>"What? You're gonna blow it up?"</p>
  <p>"No," Lukas said, rather primly, as he positioned the sticks on either side. "You are."</p>
  <p>A silence. Ludwig started shuffling, and the agitation on his face had given way to anxiety.</p>
  <p>"Here."</p>
  <p>Lukas reached forward, and stuck the box of matches in Ludwig's palm.</p>
  <p>Lukas always carried matches. Never lighters. He liked lighting them up.</p>
  <p>"Don't worry!" Lukas added, when Ludwig's shoulders slumped and his head dropped. "I checked out all the schedules. There aren't any passenger trains coming through here. Just one transport. You won't be hurting anyone. Just slowing things down."</p>
  <p>Berwald watched from behind like a sentinel, and kept a close eye on Ludwig's movements and expressions.</p>
  <p>"What's it matter?" Ludwig finally grumbled, clenching the matchbook in his palm. "If you slow it down, what's it matter? They're still gonna get there later on."</p>
  <p>"It matters. It reminds them that not everyone sits back and takes it. That's enough."</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't respond, and instead looked back over his shoulder, catching Berwald's eye. The look of pleading on his face was obvious. Berwald didn't want to force this upon Ludwig, of course he didn't, but what else could he do? Life was harsh. A lesson that needed to be learned quickly.</p>
  <p>He nodded his head.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's brow fell, and he turned back to the tracks morosely. Berwald heard the strike of a match, and waited, but Ludwig just <em>stood </em>there. He didn't move. The smell of sulfur rose above the smell of grass. Striking up that match was probably one of the hardest things Ludwig had ever done in his life, and now, he didn't move. Having second thoughts. He stood there frozen for so long that the match burnt out.</p>
  <p>Then another.</p>
  <p>Lukas looked back and met Berwald's gaze with a frown of concern. For a moment, Berwald thought they'd made a mistake. Maybe Ludwig wasn't ready.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's head was tilted to the side as he stared, and they could hear him muttering under his breath. Moments of uncertainty. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ludwig shook his head, heaved a great sigh, and struck up another match.</p>
  <p>This time, he actually leaned down.</p>
  <p>The hiss of the fuse lighting up was alarmingly loud in the quiet field, and when the second was lit, Lukas reached forward with the speed of a viper and snatched Ludwig's sleeve, yanking him back and forcing him to run back to a safe distance. The explosion that ensued, although by no means as loud or bright as the last one had been, was still enough to replace Berwald's hearing with a shrill whistle for a few seconds.</p>
  <p>Behind him, Ludwig stared back at the smoke billowing up, eyes wide and looking simultaneously awed and horrified as frightened birds fled from all over the field, casting shadows above them. Ludwig couldn't seem to look away. <em>He'd </em>done that. He'd lit the fuse.</p>
  <p>Berwald was relieved. For a minute there, he had thought Ludwig was gonna choke. A good outcome.</p>
  <p>"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Lukas said, as he placed his hands on his hips and watched Ludwig with a careful eye.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't stupid, and he only turned to look at them with a brutal glare, and quickly retorted, "Yeah, but this isn't all you do, is it?"</p>
  <p>Berwald stood still, and could only purse his lips. Of course it wasn't, but Ludwig wasn't ready for much else; his hands were shaking. His mood didn't really improve much after that, not speaking a word on the whole ride back, not even to Lukas. Ludwig was irritable now, but let him sleep on it. He'd feel differently in the morning. He'd get over it.</p>
  <p>The ride passed in silence, and when they returned home, Magnus bounded up to the door and cried, "How'd it go? Good?"</p>
  <p>No answer.</p>
  <p>Ludwig only sat down on a chair on the porch, and turned his eyes out to the setting sun. Timo, always tactful, ushered Magnus back inside and prevented him from agitating Ludwig any further. They had coffee, and conversed lowly in the dimming light. Ludwig never came inside.</p>
  <p>Finally, when the sun was gone and crickets were chirping, Berwald said to Lukas, "Aren't you gonna go collect him?"</p>
  <p>Lukas rested his chin in his palm, and pushed out his lips thoughtfully. After a hesitation, he finally turned to Timo, and the odd, knowing look that they shared was a little unnerving.</p>
  <p>Lukas turned back to him, and said, "Nah. Why don't you go talk to him? You're the leader, aren't you? This is your territory."</p>
  <p>Leader. Right. The only 'leading' he was doing was letting others use his 'leadership' to their own advantages. Timo and Lukas seemed to have a way of twisting his authority around in exceedingly manipulative ways.</p>
  <p>Hell.</p>
  <p>Suppressing a sigh, he grabbed the table and pushed back his chair, pulling himself to his feet and tugging at his collar. He wasn't really good at this stuff. What could he say? He hesitated at the door, hands in his pockets and staring down at his boots as he tried to think about what words he could possibly offer. He couldn't really think of any. Looked like he was winging it.</p>
  <p>With a deep breath, he reached out and pulled open the door, and stepped out into the night.</p>
  <p>Ludwig sat there in the same spot, hands in his lap as he stared out into the mountains. The moon was pretty high. The hour was already late. Settling himself down into the chair beside of Ludwig's, he decided that it was better just to stay silent, and let Ludwig say the first word whenever he was ready.</p>
  <p>The sounds of the forest were comforting.</p>
  <p>Ludwig sat still, even as Berwald tossed up his boots on the railing and rested his hands behind his head, making it obvious that he didn't plan on going anywhere until a conversation took place.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was extremely patient, but so was he.</p>
  <p>In the end, it was Ludwig who broke first, after maybe an hour.</p>
  <p>"Any coffee left?"</p>
  <p>"Yuh. Want some?"</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>He rose back up, and went back into the house. The others had gone off into their rooms. He looked at the clock. Almost midnight. He got the requested coffee, now lukewarm, and went back out. Ludwig hadn't moved.</p>
  <p>"Thanks."</p>
  <p>A long, if not comfortable silence, and Berwald watched as Ludwig stretched out his legs and shifted his weight. Getting a little restless.</p>
  <p>Well. May as well.</p>
  <p>Putting his hands back behind his head, Berwald glanced at Ludwig from the corner of his eye, and asked, casually, "Think you can do it?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't answer him at first, keeping his eyes firmly upon the mountains as the stars came out from behind the clouds whenever they parted. Above the lolling breeze and the fluttering of leaves, he could hear the river down between the mountains. Upstairs, the low, slow rumble that was Magnus snoring.</p>
  <p>Finally, just when Berwald thought that Ludwig was going to ignore the question altogether, he spoke up. His deep voice was scarcely audible above the wind.</p>
  <p>"Why do you go on?"</p>
  <p>"Eh?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig's bright eyes, silver in the moonlight, were suddenly locked onto his own as he leaned forward, hands clasped together within his lap.</p>
  <p>"You. I don't get you. You don't have to fight. You don't have to do anything. Why don't you just...you know. Stay home? Why don't you just wanna be normal? What's wrong with bein' a civilian?"</p>
  <p>"Nothing," he said, as he matched Ludwig's stare. "Just not for me."</p>
  <p>"Why?"</p>
  <p>It took him a moment to gather up his thoughts. Speaking in his native tongue was hard enough. Trying to fumble around thoughts in clumsy German was considerably harder.</p>
  <p>Finally, he managed a low, "When the war's over, men are gonna go back home and tell their families all they did. Allies, Axis, doesn't matter. They all did something. If I just sat here 'n let things happen outside, what could I ever tell anyone? That I didn't haveta fight, so I didn't?"</p>
  <p>"Plenty of men don't fight."</p>
  <p>"No. But I wanna help. Just 'cause we're neutral doesn't mean we should be."</p>
  <p>Ludwig eyed him for a second, and then snorted.</p>
  <p>"When it's over, who are you gonna tell about it?"</p>
  <p>"No one."</p>
  <p>"So why bother?"</p>
  <p>A strong breeze picked up, bringing with it the smell of pine.</p>
  <p>"'Cause it's the right thing to do. I think."</p>
  <p>Ludwig only gave a short, 'hm'.</p>
  <p>"Well, what about you? You're a soldier, aren't ya? How come? Why join up if ya didn't wanna fight?"</p>
  <p>A valid question, and Ludwig, for a second, looked almost abashed.</p>
  <p>"I—I only did it because my brother's a soldier. I wanted... Well, I guess I wanted him to be proud of me. He always wanted me to be like him. I just never was." Ludwig shook his head, and scoffed. "Isn't that a dumb reason to join an army? It seemed like a good idea before, but hearing myself say it now... Sounds kinda stupid."</p>
  <p>Maybe it was.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't worried about that, because, just like that, Ludwig's face suddenly fell. The mention of his brother seemed to crush Ludwig a little, and Berwald realized he hated seeing that look on Ludwig's face. Ludwig had given up his former life the second he had gripped the railing of the train in his hands. He had known damn well in that instant that he would most likely never see his brother again. Not in this life. Knew he would probably never go back home.</p>
  <p>He didn't know what to say, so stayed silent.</p>
  <p>The moon rose steadily higher. The light in Lukas' room went out. Now that everyone was finally asleep, Ludwig turned to him, and asked him a rather blunt question that had no doubt been on his mind for while.</p>
  <p>"Have you ever killed anyone, Berwald?"</p>
  <p>Berwald opened his mouth, and quickly lost his voice, because the answer should have been obvious to Ludwig, who had been on that train. Ludwig turned to him, and quickly elaborated.</p>
  <p>"I mean personally. Face to face. Have you ever killed anyone?"</p>
  <p>He shifted his weight as the heaviness crept up into his chest.</p>
  <p>"...yes."</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked him up and down, and turned his eyes back to the forest.</p>
  <p>"All of them, too?"</p>
  <p>All of them? The others? Yeah. All of them. He'd seen it himself sometimes. Sometimes he'd heard about it.</p>
  <p>Lukas had killed soldiers in Norway, and not always via an explosion. When Lukas had come back that time, a brand new Magnus in tow, he had been covered in the blood of a guard he had shot in the back of the head. Although Lukas preferred to wreak havoc from a safe distance, he always carried a gun, and it wasn't unused. Honest Lukas frequently stated that his biggest regret in life was when he had, in a moment of anger, shot and killed an occupying German soldier that was merely walking down the street; a kid, who'd barely even known how to work his gun. Lukas had fled Norway right after, although if from the Germans or a guilty conscience was left to be said. At any rate, Lukas had learned from that brash mistake, and kept his emotions in check well now. Berwald wondered if he hovered over Ludwig so much because he saw in him the young soldier he had assassinated.</p>
  <p>Timo, when Berwald had first met him out there in the forests of Finland, had already had a list of nameless Red Army soldiers under his belt. Berwald had seen him once, shoving a surrendering soldier down into the dirt in a rage and shooting him before he could even open his mouth. He'd regretted it later, a little, but that hadn't stopped him from carrying on and adding on to the list. Timo had killed more than any of them combined, but only because he frequently traveled in small groups with other Finnish resistance members and was therefore much more likely to encounter hostility and life-threatening circumstances. Somehow, Timo still smiled. Drank too much sometimes, though.</p>
  <p>Magnus had only killed once. Fleeing Denmark the first time, he'd been grabbed not by a German, but by a Danish policeman. In the grapple that had ensued, somehow Magnus had pulled out a short pocketknife (that he had <em>never </em>intended to use to hurt anyone) and plunged it straight into the officer's heart. And Berwald had heard him mutter to Lukas one night in a drunken stupor, 'And I don't ever wanna do it again'. And he had meant it; whenever Magnus went out with them, he never shot his gun, and if he did, he never aimed to kill. Strange, that the most belligerent and aggressive of the group was somehow the most naïve and innocent. That Magnus really thought he could slink by in and out of Denmark and never have to <em>kill </em>anyone. That Magnus thought he could pass the duration of war and keep his hands clean of more blood. Maybe because his murder had been so much more personal and intimate. They'd all shot those they'd killed. To use a knife and hold someone down? Different. That was why Magnus had told <em>him </em>to shoot Ludwig back then, but had never made an effort to do it himself. Couldn't.</p>
  <p>That train aside, he'd killed too. Mostly Reds, out with Timo. One German, when they had come across Lukas. Always through the scope of a rifle. Always seeing his victim in alarmingly vivid detail before he pulled the trigger. Able to see their faces and the color of their eyes and hair and the emotions that passed. The curse of the sniper; having to get a good, long look at the man you were about to murder.</p>
  <p>One more.</p>
  <p>What he hadn't told anyone, not <em>anyone</em>, was that he had killed before this war had even started.</p>
  <p>Stupid.</p>
  <p>A drunken night out in a bar in some nameless little place as he had been wandering about, looking for a place to settle down after the death of his grandmother. Seventeen and reckless and having no sense of the consequences of his actions, he'd gotten into an argument with some other patron over something insignificant and ridiculous (couldn't even remember now what it had been) and when the fight had turned physical, he'd gone too far. He didn't realize at the time, as he had aimed his boot at the man's head, that he had kicked him that <em>hard</em>. He hadn't meant to kick him that hard. Well, anyway, the poor son of a bitch had died, and he'd just left in the morning, disappearing into the mists like the ghost of a traveler that he was. Hadn't even known the man's name. For the best.</p>
  <p>They had all killed.</p>
  <p>"Yes."</p>
  <p>Mistakes were made. Thoughtless moments of anger.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked down at his clasped hands, and only said, "Mm."</p>
  <p>Berwald eyed him, and finally asked, "Have you?"</p>
  <p>"...yeah."</p>
  <p>"Well," Berwald began, "You're a soldier. Of course ya have. It's a time of war."</p>
  <p>Ludwig leaned back in his chair, and for a moment, Berwald could see the passing of shadows across his face.</p>
  <p>Then he snorted, and shook his head, muttering lowly, "Ha. Yeah. That's a good excuse, right?"</p>
  <p>An excuse? No. There was never an excuse for murder. It happened all the same.</p>
  <p>"Everyone'll forgive you, after. What else can ya do in a war?"</p>
  <p>With that, Ludwig looked over, and their eyes met in a moment of intensity.</p>
  <p>An owl hooted away in the swaying trees. The look on Ludwig's face was indescribable. So was the feeling his next statement brought out.</p>
  <p>"Jump."</p>
  <p>Unsure of what to say, and knowing that he probably shouldn't even bother, Berwald only gave a short, half-hearted scoff, and fell back in his chair.</p>
  <p>Jump.</p>
  <p>After half an hour or so of silence, Ludwig spoke again. His voice was strange.</p>
  <p>"Say."</p>
  <p>"Hm?"</p>
  <p>"War started in '39."</p>
  <p>"Yeah?"</p>
  <p>A low whisper.</p>
  <p>"I killed someone in '38."</p>
  <p>The first instinct was to whip his head over and stare in disbelief, but he shoved that aside and kept his eyes firmly ahead, out of respect and perhaps unease. What could he say to that? Ludwig was more complex by the day. Sometimes, maybe it was best just to be honest, and get a little off your chest. Ludwig was confiding, slowly but surely. One step at a time.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's voice had lowered even more; a morose, dreary rumble.</p>
  <p>"No more excuses, huh?"</p>
  <p>Maybe it was his need to confide in someone too that made Berwald look up at the moon, and say, "Mm. ...I killed someone in '28. No war then either, was there?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig gave a strange scoff that reverberated through his chest, and only said, "No. Guess there wasn't."</p>
  <p>They didn't speak anymore.</p>
  <p>He sat out there with Ludwig that night, until the moon was high up in the sky, and watched the pines in the forest swaying back and forth in the breeze. Ludwig didn't say a word, and neither did Berwald.</p>
  <p>Didn't really need to.</p>
  <p>After that night, he found that he did everything for Ludwig that he had done before only to impress Timo just <em>because</em>. Whether Timo was around to see or not. Something had clicked between them. Maybe Ludwig belonged here more than he had first anticipated.</p>
  <p>Let Fenrir come.</p>
  <p>It was easier not to fear the great wolf outside, now that he had acquired a wolf of his own.</p>
  <p>He hoped that Ludwig would stay.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. I Still Miss Someone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 9</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>I Still Miss Someone</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Flowers.</p>
  <p>Spring was on high, the forests had burst into life, and it was actually a little surprising that this quiet, snowy little mountain town could really come alive in such a colorful way. The fragile silence of snowy forests and still mountains had been broken.</p>
  <p>Funny. When Ludwig had been imagining Sweden before, his head had been full of snow, snow, and some more snow. Frozen lakes and the northern lights and reindeer. People sitting up bundled in coats on top of ice and making holes with axes. Up north it was no doubt just that, but they were a bit too low for that and the weather was familiar.</p>
  <p>Spring here seemed almost exactly the same as spring back home. Maybe a little cooler.</p>
  <p>The variety of weeds and flowers was quite stunning. So were the sounds the forests made now. Never still. Never quiet. He could rarely step outside without startling deer that were standing on the edge of the trees. It had been beautiful before, a snowy little mountain town surrounded by endless pines, but now it had become endearing.</p>
  <p>The highest mountain peaks were still capped with snow, but below everything was vibrant green.</p>
  <p>Flowers everywhere.</p>
  <p>Springtime here was pretty. Flowers all over the place, and not just outside.</p>
  <p>Inside, too.</p>
  <p>The house had almost become a maze, like some kind of saccharine, sweet-smelling, brightly-colored obstacle course. It was hard to turn his head without coming face to face with flowers. He couldn't walk down the hall without brushing up against flowers. He couldn't open a door without being assaulted with more damn flowers.</p>
  <p>There were worse things, he supposed.</p>
  <p>Maybe Berwald did not quite agree.</p>
  <p>In the morning, Berwald came crawling out of his room, rubbing blearily at his eyes, and when he looked around and saw that he was surrounded on either side by hastily-made bouquets, he furrowed his brow and wrinkled his nose and stomped off down the stairs. When Berwald came back in from the outdoors, dripping with sweat after working, he stopped in front of the door and looked around at the flowers set up in every corner, and would shake his head and wander off into the kitchen. And the kitchen brought no relief—there were flowers on the counters and on the table and even in the corner of the room.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was not entirely certain if Berwald just didn't like flowers, or if Berwald just really didn't like Magnus. Considering that it was Magnus that had set up all of these flowers, Ludwig was fairly certain that it was the latter.</p>
  <p>Now that it was spring outside and flowers were readily available, Magnus had a limitless supply and was quick to replenish one bouquet when it dried out, and Ludwig could only assume that Magnus had grown up in an environment where home simply wasn't <em>home </em>without a grotesque amount of flowers. Cute. It made the already quaint house all the more quaint.</p>
  <p>At any rate, too many flowers aside, the warmer air and the green grass made it pretty hard to stay irritated at just about anything.</p>
  <p>But, oh...</p>
  <p>That <em>homesickness</em>.</p>
  <p>Missed Gilbert <em>so</em> much, so much, it was always twisting in his stomach. Hadn't been so bad at first, but suddenly it had just roared up out of nowhere, and Ludwig fell to it hard and fast. Homesickness. Didn't know what happened; he was just outside one morning looking off into the mountains and had suddenly dissolved into tears.</p>
  <p>His mood swings had always been unpredictable, ever since before he could remember. Gilbert had always teased him about, calling him a moody woman at times, but it wasn't anything he had been able to control. He didn't mean to be that way. Sometimes, he just woke up and realized he didn't want to get out of bed. Sometimes he would turn his eyes to the window and look out at the rain and start crying. Gilbert, for all of his teasing, was always quick to fall down beside Ludwig, grab him up, and jostle him and tell him stupid jokes until he came out of it.</p>
  <p>No one here, now. Had never missed anything the way he missed Gilbert then.</p>
  <p>The worst place for it to happen, too, and whenever Ludwig felt the need to hang his head and cry, he had to duck and cover somewhere quick, because the thought of any of these men seeing it was well beyond mortifying.</p>
  <p>Wished he had just told Gilbert, that last day, that he had loved him.</p>
  <p>Too late.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried hard to focus on his new companions to keep it all at bay, and they usually made it easy.</p>
  <p>It was hard to focus on gloomy thoughts when Timo was running around outside like a hyper child, getting out months and months of pent-up energy, Magnus trailing behind him like a dog. It was hard to remember how miserable life had been not so long ago, when the sun went down and Lukas and Berwald sat around a little fire, muttering to each other lowly, their voices a pleasant garble amidst the roaring of the flame.</p>
  <p>They grew on him more and more every day. Needed them.</p>
  <p>Gilbert's over-protectiveness and sheltering had shielded him from the world, and because of it he wasn't really sure of <em>how </em>to go out on his own and start a new life. Gilbert had done everything for him. He didn't really even know where to start. Better to stay put. Not only had they taken him in, sheltering and clothing and feeding, they had attempted to extend friendship and kindness, which he had not really expected. Of course they had a price for it, sure, but maybe it would all be worth it in the end. Maybe what they offered him was more than what they asked.</p>
  <p>He needed them, and so he stayed, and that meant he had to take part in their activities.</p>
  <p>Compromising the railroad track really hadn't been all that difficult, when he thought about it the next day, and actually, it somehow made him feel a little better about himself. He was a German. Not a Nazi. The only interest he had in this war was of getting the old Germany back. Let the tracks burn. Hell—he was already a <em>traitor</em>, a coward, a defector, a shame, so why not at least earn the name a little bit? Why not stay with this group? He liked them.</p>
  <p>And they must have liked <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>The way they talked to him, the way they interacted with him; they must have liked him.</p>
  <p>He'd never had friends before.</p>
  <p>Gilbert had cooped him up, and Ludwig had been content to be cooped up, because whenever he did meet people he just didn't know what to say, didn't know how to interact with others efficiently. Only knew what he had seen Gilbert do, and tried to emulate, but Gilbert had made it look so easy. It was anything but, making friends, and Ludwig wasn't sure that he was actually succeeding.</p>
  <p>Maybe he was looking at everything the wrong way. They probably just wanted him to open his mouth and spill Wehrmacht secrets that he didn't even know. They probably just wanted him to rely on them so that he would do whatever they wanted him to. Trying to get him settled with them so he could help them, because he was a soldier and they were not.</p>
  <p>Being nice to him because they wanted something from him.</p>
  <p>Judging sincerity had never really been his strong point, and Gilbert had told him on several occasions (in an extremely condescending way, of course) that he had to keep such a good eye on Ludwig because he was easily put off guard and easily roped in and far too quick to trust.</p>
  <p>Well, he hadn't ever really considered those to be <em>terrible </em>qualities. He couldn't ever hold a grudge, sure, and maybe he was a little too nice when the time wasn't right, but was that really such a bad thing? Did he have to pass the rest of his life thinking the worst of everyone and never trusting <em>anyone</em>? Maybe Gilbert was really the reason he'd never had any friends, the reason he came across as unapproachable and a little unfriendly. Why people sometimes were afraid of him.</p>
  <p>So many years of Gilbert's warnings in his ears made it hard to smile at strangers. Kinda hard to approach people when Gilbert spend most of his time telling him that he shouldn't, because they might turn on him one day. And god, on top of that, the friends that Gilbert had—terrifying men. Ludwig had been glad to hide away from the world, with the friends Gilbert had.</p>
  <p>These men weren't like that, and Ludwig liked them.</p>
  <p>His own anxiety made him perhaps a bit desperate to impress them, because he needed them and damn it all if the thought of them not actually considering him a friend didn't kill him a little. He was too insecure, he knew it, but it was what it was and he was susceptible to them. They may not have ever guessed it, the way he had been beating the hell out of them earlier, but Ludwig was quite vulnerable to them, if only emotionally.</p>
  <p>Just hoped they didn't realize that and were taking advantage of it.</p>
  <p>"Hey, you feelin' alright? You look like you just fell down the mountain."</p>
  <p>Raising his head from his palm, he looked over to the side, where Magnus was strutting over, hands in his pockets and looking quite cheerful.</p>
  <p>"Headache," he replied, simply, and Magnus just smiled.</p>
  <p>What could he say? 'Please, just tell me if you really like me or if you just want me to crack your stupid codes.'</p>
  <p>Hardly. Pitiful.</p>
  <p>Magnus twitched his head to the door, and said,"Come with me."</p>
  <p>Pulling himself up to his feet, Ludwig did, without asking to where, because he truly was susceptible.</p>
  <p>Outside, the day was bright and cool, and there was no longer any need for coats. The thin, long-sleeved, button-up shirts that they wore were sufficient. His Wehrmacht-issued boots were hidden beneath loose pants. Freshly bathed, hair clean and gleaming, shaved and groomed, in loose, cool clothing that let in the spring breeze, he quickly forgot his headache as he walked at Magnus' side down the steps of the porch.</p>
  <p>Homesickness aside, he felt <em>great</em>. It had a been long time since he'd felt so good. This town treated him well.</p>
  <p>It was easy then, to walk at Magnus' side down into town and feel as if he were walking with a friend. Tried to suffocate his insecurity and be confident and push forward.</p>
  <p>He loved this town. He liked the way the little houses stuck up in sometimes random places high up on the mountains. The way chimney smoke floated up above the trees. He liked the way the dirt path turned into cobbled streets. He liked the way the tiny downtown buildings looked, weathered and not stuck close together.</p>
  <p>Every time he walked out into this little place, it became all the more endearing, and he understood a little better why they <em>fought</em>. To protect little places like this. To keep these people safe. They offered their lives, so meaningless when the vast numbers of men and the overwhelming scope of it all were considered, so that there would be a chance, however small, that these people would never know war.</p>
  <p>They didn't have to fight, but they did anyway.</p>
  <p>He looked over at Magnus, tall and a little unkempt, golden hair lit up by the sun and blowing back in the wind, a shadow of stubble on his cheeks, walking so casually with his hands tucked in his pockets and the smile always on his face, and couldn't help but feel a little useless.</p>
  <p>Magnus had run too, but he had taken up arms the second he had crossed the border. Lukas, too. Timo offered his life in the miniscule chance that it might help Finland be free. And Berwald had never been in danger, had never been obligated or pressured, had never known war, but he was putting himself into the line of fire merely because he thought it was the right thing to do. Fighting for ideals, not country.</p>
  <p>He had been that way, once, a long time ago. Seeing Gilbert in uniform had made him feel proud, as if they were part of something greater than themselves. Putting his own uniform on shortly after had been one of the happiest moments of Ludwig's life, if only because Gilbert had almost cried seeing him, he had been so proud. Had felt that way, had wanted to go out and help and matter and keep people safe.</p>
  <p>Wanted to use his uniform to keep people safe. Hadn't worked out that way.</p>
  <p>Couldn't stand being in that beautiful uniform and knowing that for it he had to hurt people.</p>
  <p>"You're so quiet today."</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't have time to respond, because Magnus, perhaps sensing his sudden melancholy, had reached out with the speed of a cat to grab him around the shoulders and pull him in. A friendly, reassuring squeeze.</p>
  <p>"You think too much," he said, as he clutched Ludwig up to his side and continued walking along the empty path, the bright sun ahead making him squint and lighting up what little of his irises were visible a vivid gold.</p>
  <p>Ludwig only snorted, but made no effort to pull away. Because Gilbert wasn't here to cheer him up. Magnus did that now, and that was just how it was.</p>
  <p>"You don't think <em>enough</em>," he griped, and Magnus just laughed.</p>
  <p>The forest turned into field, and from there, into buildings. The church was visible in the distance. The smell of a bakery. The dirt beneath his boots turned into stone.</p>
  <p>Walking around town made him feel as if he was normal. Just another man, going off on errands. As long as he didn't really talk, no one looked at him twice. And, Magnus had said, Swedes were so quiet that he wouldn't be weird if he just pointed at things that he wanted and nodded, since that was what most of them did anyway. Fine with him.</p>
  <p>As they walked, they kept their voices low and soft, hard for Magnus, so that the locals wouldn't hear them speaking that South Jutland dialect, which could have been easily mistaken by Swedes for German. How <em>excited </em>Magnus had been when he had burst into that dialect one morning without thinking about it only to discover that Ludwig had understood him—fit to cry he had been, and now that was all he spoke when they were alone. Maybe Magnus was as homesick as Ludwig was.</p>
  <p>"So, Ludde, you likin' it here, so far?"</p>
  <p>"...I wish you'd stop calling me that."</p>
  <p>Magnus gave him a slanted leer.</p>
  <p>"How come? You're in Sweden, aren't ya? I'm just tryin' to integrate ya a little bit."</p>
  <p>He was going to open his mouth and say, 'smartass!', but he didn't, because he was distracted by the thought that if Magnus really <em>was </em>trying to integrate him, then that must have meant that he <em>liked </em>him.</p>
  <p>Right? Right.</p>
  <p>He followed wherever Magnus led him, like a dog, into every little building that they passed.</p>
  <p>Half of the time, it seemed, Magnus didn't even buy anything. He just stopped in to be nosy and look around, and try to chat up the locals. Most of them seemed to know he was coming, and quickly made escapes out of backdoors or sidestepped when he was distracted with someone else. Poor Magnus. These silent Swedes were just no match for his talkative and amicable personality. Whenever Magnus came pushing through a door, the store seemed to clear out.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stood back in the corner as they walked into a little building that seemed to be used as a general store. Magnus searched through the shelves, grabbed up some bottles of aspirin, walked towards the counter, and then, as an afterthought, he backtracked and grabbed a bottle of vodka. Ludwig watched silently as Magnus struck up a conversation with the hapless store-owner, who stood there behind the counter and just nodded away, a much-suffering look upon his face.</p>
  <p>Magnus babbled on.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was certain that at one point, he heard Magnus croon to the man, 'Ludde'.</p>
  <p>Goddammit.</p>
  <p>Although, from the glance back at him from above Magnus' shoulder, the owner would have much rather have been interacting with quiet 'Ludde' than with loud-mouthed Magnus.</p>
  <p>Magnus burst into laughter at who knew what, reached out to clap the owner on the arm, gathered up his things, and walked out. Ludwig followed, and heard as he went a low, grumbled, "<em>Han prata sju stugor fulla</em>..."</p>
  <p>Well, whatever that meant, it was probably true. Magnus, oblivious, dragged him onward.</p>
  <p>Magnus never stopped talking, never, and all Ludwig could do was try to keep up. Liked it though, because Magnus reminded him so much of Gilbert. Made that awful pang of hurt and homesickness easier to handle.</p>
  <p>They wandered here and there, and Ludwig was well beyond mortified when Magnus had come out of a shop with a stack of clothes and new boots, only to throw them in Ludwig's arms and say, "These are for you. You need 'em."</p>
  <p>Embarrassing.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was quick to attempt to return them, because from the look of them they had been very expensive. Magnus waved him off, so easily, and Ludwig hadn't been blind to the way Magnus threw money around so carelessly, so easily, with no thought at all. Probably the only reason this village hadn't banded together yet to throw Magnus out of their community, his wallet, because he pulled it out every five minutes.</p>
  <p>Curious.</p>
  <p>Had no choice really but to accept them, marking in down in his mind as a debt to pay back, but Ludwig wouldn't deny he was grateful. He liked Magnus' clothes, loved the way they smelled, but he didn't love the way Berwald looked at him when he was in Magnus' clothes. That look of distaste. Hoped it was because of the clothes, anyway, and not just because Berwald didn't really want Ludwig there at all.</p>
  <p>They walked around, but Magnus didn't lead him back to the house. Actually, as they crossed the street and then back again, Ludwig realized that Magnus was leading him in circles. The whole time, he just blabbered on and on. Ludwig kind of figured that Magnus was doing anything and everything to keep the journey going because he had <em>missed </em>speaking in the Jutland dialect, and was trying to get as much of it in whenever he could.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, knowing how he felt, humored him.</p>
  <p>Whenever Magnus ran out of something to say, whenever there was a silence that lasted a little too long, Ludwig could see the steady creeping of shadow across his face. That was why Magnus talked so much, perhaps, to keep himself from thinking of other things.</p>
  <p>Maybe it wasn't really a great idea, but Ludwig was the exact opposite of tactful, and asked, during one of those dreary silences when Magnus was staring off into the distance, "So, do you have family waiting back home?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig was glad when Magnus smiled.</p>
  <p>"Oh, yeah! I think I'm really the only one that does. Timo's family is all gone except for an aunt or something, and Berwald and Lukas are all alone. But me? Ha! I've got a ton. Too many to count. My mom's back home, and my aunts and uncles, my brothers and sisters, my cousins, my dad."</p>
  <p>"None of them left Denmark?"</p>
  <p>The smile fell from Magnus' face a little, and Ludwig regretted asking.</p>
  <p>Adoration was quickly replaced with something almost like scorn.</p>
  <p>"Nah. Just me. We fell out a little bit. When the soldiers came, a lot of guys were happy, you know? One of my brothers is a marine, and when the German ships docked he was out there takin' pictures with 'em! My dad, too. I kind of made a scene about it. My brother told me to get over it or get out. So! I left, the next day. Didn't look back."</p>
  <p>Ludwig ducked his chin down in his collar a bit, and Magnus was quick to look over at him, suddenly looking as abashed as Ludwig felt.</p>
  <p>"That is, hey, I mean, I'm not tryin' to offend you or nothin'—"</p>
  <p>"It's alright."</p>
  <p>With that, they fell into a silence that almost felt a little awkward, their clothes and hair being jostled every which way by the wind that was steadily picking up. The leaves on the trees rustled all around them. Magnus looked up at the sky, squinted his eyes in the sun, and then heaved a great sigh that was meant to be an ice-breaker.</p>
  <p>Ludwig took it, and dared himself to put his foot in his mouth again, asking, "So. You worked on a farm huh?"</p>
  <p>"Yup."</p>
  <p>"Where'd you get all that money from?"</p>
  <p>Magnus looked over at him, his smile wide.</p>
  <p>"Hey, I wasn't lyin' when I said it was good work! Hell, I busted my ass over there. Almost twenty hours a day! I saved up everything I could. I was gonna buy a house somewhere and move out, but once all this started, I just brought it all with me. In case."</p>
  <p>Hm.</p>
  <p>"Well—if that's all you have, what're ya gonna do when you run out? The way you spend money you'll be broke by the end of the year!"</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>And then, unbelievably, Magnus turned to look at him, and the expression on his face was absolutely indescribable. An awful mixture of worry, incredulousness, dread, and somehow, a little hope.</p>
  <p>"Yeah," he began, in a thin, breathless voice, "But...the war will probably be over by <em>then</em>, right?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig opened his mouth, lost his voice under the terrible look on Magnus' face, and only shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>This great, vast, grinding war over by the end of the year? Oh, Magnus. Poor Magnus.</p>
  <p>Magnus was not content with silence, and pressed, a bit more weakly, "Don't you think? It'll be over by then, surely."</p>
  <p>Stomach churning and feeling worse now than he had in all the weeks he'd been here, he finally tried to put on a smile (it fell) and he somehow managed to say, "Maybe. Probably. Who can say?"</p>
  <p>Wished it could have been, really, but just didn't see how it would have ever been possible.</p>
  <p>Magnus fell silent, gave an odd scoff, and threw his arm over Ludwig's shoulders and kept walking.</p>
  <p>The sun was high up above the mountains. The start of the evening. They'd been out here for hours, just walking here and there and talking over the wind. Gilbert would have called a thing such as this 'bonding'.</p>
  <p>Oh, Gilbert. Always haunting his thoughts. Missed him, even if Magnus was similar it would just never be the same.</p>
  <p>Magnus suddenly asked, "Say. When the war's over, where are ya gonna go?"</p>
  <p>Where <em>could </em>he go? He had no family aside from Gilbert. No one he knew.</p>
  <p>"I don't really know. I guess I'll wing it."</p>
  <p>Magnus' arm tightened around his shoulder, and he leaned in, so close that their cheeks pressed together, and he said, quietly, "When it's all over and done with, if you don't have anywhere to go, and if you want to, you can come with me and Timo."</p>
  <p>He didn't bother to try and pull away from the touch.</p>
  <p>His chest hurt.</p>
  <p>Keeping his face together well, Ludwig only smiled, and teased, "You and Timo, huh?"</p>
  <p>Magnus' face lit up as red as the flowers he liked to pick, and he pulled away from Ludwig with a clearing of his throat.</p>
  <p>"Yeah, well! You know! Ahh—I've kinda taken a likin' to him, I guess, so, I mean, if he can't go home, then I've told him too that he can come with me! Er—"</p>
  <p>At Magnus' unusually flustered appearance, Ludwig couldn't help but feel the improving of his mood. Magnus had a way of lifting him up, even if he hadn't meant to.</p>
  <p>"That is, I've taken a liking to all you guys! Eh, <em>almost </em>all of you guys, anyway. I mean, I've never been in this kinda situation, where the guys you live with can really save your <em>life</em>, and I don't know—I'd call all of you my brothers, even more than 'friends'. As far I'm concerned, we're all in this together now. Even you. I mean, Lukas said he'll go home no matter what, and Berwald's fine. But you and Timo, if things don't end well, I couldn't just leave ya out to the winds, you know? We're together in this now, we should be together after."</p>
  <p>With that, Magnus reached out and ruffled his already wind-swept hair. His smile was back up like the sun.</p>
  <p>Ludwig smiled too.</p>
  <p>Magnus saw them all as brothers. Somehow, that sounded alright with him. He'd lost one brother. Maybe gaining four more for it wasn't such a bad price to pay. He'd never really looked at it like that, so worried about trying to get them to like him, and it was beyond comforting to think that after all of this was over, after all of it, that he would not be left alone in the middle of nowhere.</p>
  <p>That maybe they actually did care about him.</p>
  <p>They walked back until the street turned to dirt, the ground soft beneath his boots, and then Magnus started talking again. This time, though, it was just a quick, somewhat tentative question.</p>
  <p>"Hey. You really think I spend too much?"</p>
  <p>"I do."</p>
  <p>"If I gave you my money, would you hide it somewhere for me? So I won't use it all?"</p>
  <p>For whatever reason, his heart raced. Magnus <em>had </em>to have liked him. Had to. To trust him with something like that.</p>
  <p>Finally, he answered, very smoothly despite the adrenaline in his veins, "Sure."</p>
  <p>Magnus smiled.</p>
  <p>"Thanks."</p>
  <p>They didn't say another word until they reached the bend in the road, the great forest looming above them on either side, and the house was visible high up in the distance.</p>
  <p>Home, now.</p>
  <p>Magnus grabbed the handle and held the door open, and the second he had crossed the threshold into the warm house, Ludwig <em>felt </em>it, if only a little.</p>
  <p><em>Home</em>.</p>
  <p>The fireplace roaring off in the living room, the smell of coffee from the kitchen, the sounds of friendly voices chattering away from within, rooms and sights that had now become familiar, and even though he shouldn't have been here, even though he wasn't really <em>one </em>of them, it still felt good to have somewhere to go at the end of the day. Wasn't that a home? Just because it wasn't his country, and just because Gilbert wasn't here...</p>
  <p>Did that make it any less of a home?</p>
  <p>He felt comfortable and safe here, and maybe that was just enough.</p>
  <p>He and Gilbert had parted ways. Gilbert was gone, and there was nothing he could do now to fix it, no way to change, so all he could really do was just keeping walking down this path he had turned down.</p>
  <p>Home, with new brothers.</p>
  <p>And when Ludwig turned the corner and saw Berwald sitting there at the kitchen table alone, there was another rush of adrenaline. Wanted all of them to like him, yeah, but Ludwig was aware that above all else he strove to stay in Berwald's sentiments. Wanted Berwald to want him there, far more than the others, and if it had been asked of him he could have never explained why.</p>
  <p>Berwald always stared at him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig sat down with him then at the table, Berwald looked over at him, staring away as he always did, and Ludwig felt that little lurch of affection he always did when awkward Berwald was around. Berwald had long since grown on him, in a different way than the others had, and Ludwig hoped that it was a mutual sensation.</p>
  <p>"Have a good time out there?"</p>
  <p>Making conversation with Berwald though? That was still a little difficult.</p>
  <p>Especially seeing that look of distaste on Berwald's face as he stared Ludwig down, and Ludwig knew that he was irritated that Ludwig had spent the entire day out in town with Magnus.</p>
  <p>Softly, Ludwig just said, "A great time. I wish you had come."</p>
  <p>That seemed to diffuse Berwald quickly enough, and he suddenly turned his eyes away with a grunt. Ludwig couldn't help but smile over at him, chin in palm and gazing away.</p>
  <p>That big oaf.</p>
  <p>When Berwald was there, Ludwig felt oddly content.</p>
  <p>What was that feeling? An unfamiliar one. Ludwig knew he was staring too much, but he couldn't seem to help it. Something about Berwald kept his gaze, always had, since the very first day.</p>
  <p>The affection he felt for Berwald was potent. Ludwig just wanted to be around him all the time, and couldn't say why.</p>
  <p>They sat there together for a good hour or two, as the others chatted away in the living room, and Berwald seemed rather more talkative with Ludwig that night than he had been any other time. Actually gave effort to speak, answered Ludwig's questions, and although that was a little unusual, Ludwig was so excited and so proud and confident that he didn't think too much about it.</p>
  <p>So desperate as he was for Berwald to like him.</p>
  <p>Trying too hard, perhaps.</p>
  <p>A particularly loud burst of laughter from Magnus drew Berwald's eyes over to the threshold, and that calm was gone as quickly as it had come. The familiar look of seriousness was back. One of these days, he would gather up the courage to actually ask Berwald what it was, exactly, about Magnus that riled him up so. Magnus was loud and obnoxious, sure, but not a bad guy.</p>
  <p>In the end, maybe the 'why' wasn't really important. Sometimes, people just didn't get along. Simple as that. Reasons were just reasons. Maybe Magnus and Berwald had just woken up one morning and decided that they didn't want to get along anymore.</p>
  <p>It was probably selfish, but Ludwig was just fine with that as long as both of them liked <em>him</em>. Hell, let 'em hate each other. As long as Berwald looked happy around <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>Berwald took a step forward, and without even thinking about it, Ludwig followed him. Just to see where he went.</p>
  <p>Instead of barging outside to lurk in solitude, or into his room to sit down on his bed and sulk, Berwald went straight into the living room, with a high chin and sharp eyes, and he immediately took note of the scene. Observing what was happening. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Just Magnus splayed on the loveseat, Timo slouched in a chair, and Lukas sitting cross-legged on the floor. A very normal scene, at least from what Ludwig had seen so far. What had Berwald barged in here expecting to see?</p>
  <p>"Hey!" Timo said, leering up at them with bleary eyes as they entered. "You two been having a, ah, <em>good time</em>?"</p>
  <p>Odd tone.</p>
  <p>Berwald shifted, and Ludwig snorted.</p>
  <p>...hoped Berwald had had a good time, anyway, chatting away as they had.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked at each of them, and finally summed up, "Not as good a time as your drinking's been."</p>
  <p>Looking around the room and apparently satisfied at what he saw, Berwald took his usual spot on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he eyed the bottles of alcohol sitting upon the coffee table.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's attention was drawn by Magnus, who strove to catch his eye.</p>
  <p>"Hey! Hey! C'mere," Magnus cried, sloppily, as he waved him over. "Sit, sit, we're drinkin'!"</p>
  <p>Obeying the command, Ludwig sat. But he didn't sit with Magnus.</p>
  <p>The seat next to Berwald was wide open and, even though Magnus was extending an arm, he leapt for it, settling in beside of Berwald as unintentionally as possible, taking up a glass from the table. Berwald glanced over at him, with a high brow, as if alarmed. As if nobody had ever thought to sit with <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>Magnus watched him for a second, one eye squinted in scrutiny, and then he leaned back into the couch and broke into a wide, if not lopsided, smile.</p>
  <p>"Ah," he finally slurred, as he waved an errant hand, "Who needs ya, eh?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig inclined his head, and lifted his glass in a toast.</p>
  <p>They were drunk as could be, the three of them, and Ludwig was happy to stay nestled into Berwald's side. Happy to be there, although Berwald looked quite stupefied if not a bit content. Ludwig knew right then who he would be sitting next to from then on. Liked the way Berwald looked at him then, and strove to keep himself in Berwald's sights.</p>
  <p>It was hard that night, though, to stay focused on Berwald, because suddenly everyone and their mother wanted to chat Ludwig's ear off. Was passed back and forth between them for conversation so quickly that he couldn't keep up. They filled every second with conversation directed at Ludwig, and although he wanted to be happy, wanted to enjoy the attention, he couldn't really help but wonder...</p>
  <p>That old self-doubt. Insecurity.</p>
  <p>Magnus had spent all day with him. Berwald had spoken to him more than usual. Now all of them were showering Ludwig with attention.</p>
  <p>They were up to something.</p>
  <p>He knew it, could feel it, and his good mood sank. Barely able to keep his eyes up from the floor then, and even Berwald there so close to him couldn't really seem to perk him back up.</p>
  <p>They wanted something.</p>
  <p>An hour passed, and then another, then Magnus was asleep, Timo somehow managed to stagger off to his room, and then Lukas went, too.</p>
  <p>Sitting there alone with Berwald, whose cheeks were flushed and glasses crooked, would have been such a pleasant experience if Ludwig had been able to stop fretting. If he could have just stopped worrying so much about how these men saw him. If he could get out of his head and just take it all for what it was. If he could accept the fact that maybe they were using him, yeah, they wanted something from him, but that didn't mean that they couldn't like him and care about him at the same time.</p>
  <p>It didn't have to just be one or the other.</p>
  <p>Tried to keep his chin up, he did, and tried so hard then to enjoy that intoxicated Berwald that he was suddenly alone with. He looked over, as Berwald sat there, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, staring over at Ludwig blearily and smiling just a little. Wanted to enjoy that, and more so when Berwald suddenly reached out and shook him by the arm.</p>
  <p>Berwald met his gaze, and slurred, deeply, "Ya don' haveta be so nice to them, ya know? You can tell 'em to shut up if ya want. S'okay if ya...if ya just...you know."</p>
  <p>Lost for words, apparently too drunk to form coherent German, Berwald only barked a short, coarse laugh, and reached out to slap Ludwig rather roughly on the back as he promptly finished his sentence in Swedish.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't understand a damn word he said, but smiled anyway, because the sound of his voice was exceedingly pleasant and he loved it when Berwald was the one paying him attention.</p>
  <p>Damn, though, if Berwald's hand there on his back hadn't made his stomach twist. Adrenaline rush.</p>
  <p>Stared over at Berwald like an idiot then, for the rest of the night, feeling remarkably entranced by that drunk bastard. His heart jolted every single time that Berwald reached out and clapped him.</p>
  <p>Captivated.</p>
  <p>Berwald fell back into the cushion, sinking down a little more as the clock ticked by, the bottle emptied soon after, the fire started to die out, and Ludwig vaguely remembered, in the darkness of night, leading stumbling and staggering Berwald up the stairs, tossing him down onto his bed, and then making his own wobbly way back down to his own bed, where he threw himself face first into the pillow. He thought that he felt Lukas pulling off his boots sometime later.</p>
  <p>Morning came too soon.</p>
  <p>Not because of the mild hangover. Something else.</p>
  <p>Head throbbing and stomach churning, Ludwig allowed himself to sleep in a little (just a little), and it was Lukas who was up first. It was somewhat surreal to have someone knocking on <em>his</em> door not long after, banging with particular enthusiasm. When Ludwig pulled himself to his feet and staggered over to the door without vomiting, he was met with a very rough-looking Magnus, who, despite his sleep-shocked appearance, was leering in a very satisfied manner.</p>
  <p>"Woke up before you," he rasped, hair sticking up and eyes lidded, and it was obviously a moment of glory for him, to be awake before Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, rubbing sleep from his eyes, muttered, "Only because you passed out first. Proud of yourself, huh? Feel good?"</p>
  <p>Magnus smoothed down his hair, and drawled, smartly, "'I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory," he placed a hand emphatically over his chest, "is over <em>self</em>.'"</p>
  <p>...showboat. Goddamn showboat. Ludwig couldn't help but grimace and roll his eyes. Around Magnus, it was a wonder one's eyes didn't become stuck upwards.</p>
  <p>Before Ludwig could step out and start the day, Magnus blocked him and said, "Here."</p>
  <p>Reaching out, he placed something quickly in Ludwig's hand. Ludwig looked down, and saw that it was a large stack of bills. The annoyance with Magnus was gone as quick as it had come, because Magnus trusted him.</p>
  <p>"Don't tell me where it is, eh? You can keep me on an allowance."</p>
  <p>"Oh," Ludwig replied as he tucked the money into his pocket, "That won't be a problem."</p>
  <p>"I figured. You already act like my mother."</p>
  <p>A smile, and then Magnus wandered off back up the stairs, and Ludwig, taking this duty as seriously as he took every other, turned around, searching high and low for a spot that would keep the money well and hidden. There weren't really any good options, and in the end, he wound up sticking the money in the middle of a drawer full of Lukas' cables and wires, where even the bravest soul would hesitate to plunge his hands.</p>
  <p>An absurd amount of trust that Magnus was putting into a man that was still for all intents and purposes a complete stranger.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried to keep his thoughts positive, but they just kept making it harder, because when he stepped into the hall, there was another distraction.</p>
  <p>Timo.</p>
  <p>"Morning!" he chirped, as he stood in front of Ludwig, arms clasped neatly behind his back. "Since you were asleep, me and Lukas made breakfast for you! Thought we'd do something nice!"</p>
  <p>"Ah. Thanks," he managed, and Timo clapped him on the shoulder, and slunk away.</p>
  <p>Nice? Too nice. They were up to something for sure, and he realized it then beyond all doubt. Realized why they had hovered over him so much the night before, why Magnus had dragged him all over and had bought him clothes, why Berwald had spoken to him at all.</p>
  <p>His confidence shattered, and he suddenly felt back at square one.</p>
  <p>Maybe Gilbert had been right. Maybe they really were just using him, being nice to him to make him comfortable, telling him what he wanted to hear so that he would stay. But, oh, didn't they know he was already planning on staying? He didn't have anywhere else to go, no one and nothing, and he liked them already.</p>
  <p>Liked Berwald so much.</p>
  <p>Had started wondering about Berwald, a little, because he had been hanging over Ludwig constantly, silent or no, had been engaging him and interacting with him, and Ludwig had started to get his hopes up, had started thinking that Berwald actually liked him in turn.</p>
  <p>Wondering now if he had been wrong stung.</p>
  <p>Putting on his guard and his old mask of calm, Ludwig made his way into the kitchen. Lukas sat at the table, coffee in hand and tapping his foot in rhythm on the floor as he hummed away, and beside of him sat Berwald.</p>
  <p>Everyone was staring at him, and Ludwig must have looked nervous, despite his best efforts, because Berwald, glasses low on his nose and looking a little pale, stood up before Ludwig could sit down.</p>
  <p>"Hey. Got somethin' to talk to ya about."</p>
  <p>And here it was!</p>
  <p>An awful surge of dread. Maybe a little hurt.</p>
  <p>Ludwig kept his face blank, and merely said, "Oh?"</p>
  <p>Berwald started walking, waving a hand in the air, and Ludwig followed him. Heavy footsteps on the stairs as Berwald went up, and Ludwig was certain that he had caught a glimpse of Timo down below, peering out of his room with his arms crossed above his chest. Waiting. Watching.</p>
  <p>Anxiety.</p>
  <p>He found himself hesitating at the top of his stairs, leaving one hand atop the railing as he watched Berwald walk into his room, and leave the door open behind. What kind of talk was this? What was it that had to be said in such a private setting? It was a strange thing, to step foot in Berwald's room, when he finally got his feet to move and managed to come forward. Somehow, a little intimidating. Berwald was standing there next to the closet, one hand in his pocket and the other loose at his side, and Ludwig shut the door behind.</p>
  <p>A long silence.</p>
  <p>Finally, Berwald lifted up a hand in the air, and motioned him forward in a silent gesture of 'come here'. When Ludwig crept over, though, Berwald was still and silent, and didn't speak. For a moment, Ludwig thought he may have looked a little anxious himself. Not a good sign.</p>
  <p>Ludwig finally spoke first, patting his hands airily on his pants and saying, "So. What did you want to tell me?"</p>
  <p>He expected a slow, awkward speech about what his duties here were about to include.</p>
  <p>Instead, Berwald rolled back his shoulders, looked him up and down, and asked, "Did you really mean it when you said ya wanted to stay?"</p>
  <p>"I did."</p>
  <p>That, it seemed, was what Berwald wanted to hear. Without another word, he turned around, and took up the doorknob in his hand. When Berwald opened up the closet, it was pretty damn obvious why they had been so interactive with him the night before and so friendly this morning.</p>
  <p>His old uniform was in there. It looked as good as new. Patched up and clean of blood.</p>
  <p>Another pang of homesickness, and beneath it the unease. Irritation. He had a feeling about where this was going.</p>
  <p>And he didn't like it.</p>
  <p>Before he could think of anything to say, Berwald spoke.</p>
  <p>"We might be leavin' soon. Things get worse every day. So...we'll keep it, in case we ever need to use it."</p>
  <p>The hurt and insecurity of being used by these men suddenly became something closer to anger.</p>
  <p>Felt frustrated, suddenly. Trapped.</p>
  <p>The unspoken implication was that, if they ever needed him to, they would be quick to stuff Ludwig back into his Wehrmacht uniform and send him back out amidst the wolves, for either information or to clear a safe passage, keeping an eye on him from a good distance as he tried to dance within the ranks again and pretend like nothing out of the ordinary had ever occurred. A spy. They were keeping the uniform in case they needed him to spy.</p>
  <p>He was <em>not </em>okay with that.</p>
  <p>Felt almost foolish for a moment then, having given so much of his sentiments to these men he didn't know. Letting himself get so attached to them, letting himself rely on them, when really he had known all along that everything they did for him they did for their own benefit.</p>
  <p>Regretted that he had started caring so much for Berwald, only for Berwald to turn around and throw this uniform right in his face.</p>
  <p>That uniform. Once, it had been the thing Ludwig had been the most proud of, and even if he couldn't wear it in pride anymore, he sure as hell wasn't going to use it to let them hurt his comrades. He was still a soldier if only in spirit, and he wasn't going to put it on and go spy. Wouldn't do that, wouldn't, and if that was what they really wanted from him, then he would leave.</p>
  <p>Wouldn't do it.</p>
  <p>Felt so stupid, suddenly.</p>
  <p>Ha. Brothers. Yeah, right.</p>
  <p>Maybe his stance or his face said it all, for Berwald shut the closet and turned around, and caught Ludwig's eye as he said, carefully, "It won't be what ya think. I wouldn't send ya off somewhere all alone. Soviets and Germans are still friends. Ya might be able to get us past roadblocks in Finland. Nothin' else. Give ya my word."</p>
  <p>Berwald's word. Even so. Hardly felt any better, really, because he didn't want to put it on at all.</p>
  <p>Maybe Berwald knew that, too, but what he said then really surprised Ludwig.</p>
  <p>"We're not gonna force ya to wear it. If you don't want to, that's that. It would help us, but I won't make ya. If it would make you leave— I don't want that. I want ya to stay. You don't have to wear it, but I'd like for ya to stay."</p>
  <p>Ludwig held Berwald's gaze as best he could, but he felt so tired then, so down and out and defeated, and he recognized easily that nosedive of his mood. This time, there was no one that could have really picked him up, not even Gilbert.</p>
  <p>He just stood there, and stared at Berwald. Couldn't speak, because he was worried he'd embarrass himself and start cryin' or something.</p>
  <p>"Think about it," Berwald said, walking to the door, and Ludwig followed.</p>
  <p>In the hall, Berwald fell still, looked at Ludwig over his shoulder, and Ludwig thought that maybe Berwald looked a little disappointed somehow. A little disheartened.</p>
  <p>A low whisper.</p>
  <p>"We'd really like for ya to stay."</p>
  <p>Then, Berwald tromped down the stairs, feet heavy on the wood, and Ludwig was left alone at the top to stare down with a furrowed brow and try to figure out what the hell he was gonna do now.</p>
  <p>What <em>could </em>he do? He had already been staying because he was alone. Couldn't really see the way forward here on his own, not alone, and didn't want to leave them behind exactly.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell.</p>
  <p>He went outside down to the edge of the forest, where he was left alone, and tucked himself in the shadows and had a good cry. Was glad no one came down to check on him, damn glad, and when he had gotten it all out and was feeling a little less down for it, he retreated into his own room, threw himself down on the bed, crossed his arms behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling until the sun was low. Lost up in his head, as usual. Weighing his options.</p>
  <p>Had gotten attached to these men, hated admitting it but there it was, and didn't want to leave.</p>
  <p>Didn't want to leave Berwald.</p>
  <p>When it was starting to get dark and he had been passing in and out of sleep, the door creaked open.</p>
  <p>Berwald poked his head in, but didn't come inside for respect, and merely said, "Want some coffee?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked over through sleepy eyes, took in the rather melancholy look of Berwald, and then sat up.</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>Berwald seemed a little relieved. Ludwig liked to think that it was because Berwald actually cared about him, and not just because he was worried about losing a good shot.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig was in the kitchen, all of them were there, and they were watching him so carefully. Timo was quick to sit beside of him and start a conversation, and Lukas hung over them as they spoke. Magnus, standing off in the corner, looked a little sad, nervous. Berwald was quiet.</p>
  <p>He knew that they didn't want him to leave, and well...</p>
  <p>Honestly, despite how angry and anxious he had been, somehow all along he had never planned on actually leaving. Had known that he would end up staying, because Gilbert had always been right about Ludwig; he was too nice, too vulnerable, trusted too quickly, and was easy to take advantage of. He was comfortable here now, and so he would stay, even if deep down he knew they were using him.</p>
  <p>Almost didn't matter, by then.</p>
  <p>They hung over him all day as they had before, but Berwald and Magnus were so quiet, so withdrawn, and Ludwig should have known that there was more than just that uniform that they had been planning.</p>
  <p>He did notice, as the sun set over the mountains that night, that Berwald looked a little mournful afterwards. A little sad. Distant and thoughtful. Like something good had come to an end.</p>
  <p>That night, when they sat together in the living room drinking, there was hardly any conversation.</p>
  <p>The next day, the air was strangely thick. Sad.</p>
  <p>Everyone smiled at him when they passed, or at least they tried to, and he found Berwald sitting out on one of the tables outside, arm rested on his knee and staring off blankly into the mountains.</p>
  <p>When they gathered in the living room that evening to clean the guns, they were strangely silent. Quiet. Oddly attentive to the task. Magnus looked over his guns with an unusually critical eye. Lukas, instead of tinkering with cables, was looking over a handgun. Ludwig looked them over in turn, trying to figure it all out without asking, but they only caught his eye, gave him a half-hearted smile, and then looked away.</p>
  <p>He felt sick. He hated not knowing. He hated being in the dark. His stomach churned even more when, as soon as the guns were clean, they did not return to the shed or to the chest in the hall. Instead, they were sat next to the door.</p>
  <p>Afterwards, Berwald eyed Ludwig, and finally said, carefully and somewhat drearily, "Lemme look that over for ya."</p>
  <p>Ludwig handed over his rifle to Berwald, and let him check it over as he saw fit. He watched with an odd sense of melancholy as Berwald took apart the rifle he had just cleaned, and cleaned it all over again.</p>
  <p>After a half hour or so, Berwald had it back together, and sent him a quick look.</p>
  <p>"You did a good job."</p>
  <p>Berwald's words, for once, did nothing to calm him.</p>
  <p>There was a long, awkward silence, and then Timo stood up, and placed his hands on his hips as he looked them all over, and he blew air through his teeth. And what Timo said next made his heart sink down all the way into his feet.</p>
  <p>"Ludwig. Get your things together—well, whatever you have, pack up. We're leaving. In the morning."</p>
  <p>Leaving.</p>
  <p>An awful sense of unease, dread, dismay. Liked this town so much, and didn't wanna leave. Didn't want to go, because he knew that wherever they went wouldn't be somewhere exactly safe.</p>
  <p>Throat dry, Ludwig asked, "Where?"</p>
  <p>Timo glanced over at Magnus, and they suddenly all looked a little shifty. A little reluctant. Like they had been putting this off for a while.</p>
  <p>Finally, it was Lukas who said, "We're gonna cross the sea into Estonia to help out a friend of Timo's for a while."</p>
  <p>Estonia. Soviet-occupied Estonia. As bad as German-occupied Norway.</p>
  <p>Timo caught his eye, and tried to smile.</p>
  <p>"It shouldn't be so bad. They're a little group. They don't really do all that much. They're not well enough equipped to start their own war."</p>
  <p>That wasn't comforting.</p>
  <p>He hung his head and stared at his feet, hands clasped in his lap, and they all stood up, and retreated into their own rooms, presumably to finish packing. Berwald stayed behind after the others had left, and stood there at the bottom of the steps.</p>
  <p>Ludwig knew he probably looked a little ill.</p>
  <p>After a moment of silence, Berwald spoke. His guttural voice was hard to hear, even in such stillness.</p>
  <p>"I meant what I said before. If you wanna leave, you can go. But I'd like for ya to come. I'd like for ya to stay with us."</p>
  <p>With that, he turned and ambled off up the stairs, and Ludwig sat there for what felt like hours, lost in his thoughts.</p>
  <p>Here it was, then, at long last. Decision time. To stay with these men and fight, or to go off on his own and try to settle down somewhere and be normal.</p>
  <p>Didn't wanna fight. Didn't wanna <em>hurt</em> anyone again.</p>
  <p>He had done so many godawful things back home. Nothing he could do now would change it, he knew that, couldn't take any of it back, couldn't make any of it better. There was nothing for it, so going with these men and fighting alongside them wouldn't alleviate his guilty conscience.</p>
  <p>He knew that, he did.</p>
  <p>He was in lying back on the couch before he knew it, staring at the ceiling and still ever in thought.</p>
  <p>Knew that nothing would change it, but damn if he couldn't stop making himself sick over it. Didn't ever want to feel that way again. If he ran off and into the mountains and lied low until the war ended, would that really make him feel better? He would never hurt anyone again, yeah, but he wouldn't help anyone either. He had become a soldier to protect people.</p>
  <p>Protecting people...</p>
  <p>Morning was breaking before he had really even gone to sleep, as he spent hours and hours torn between feeling sick and feeling determined and drifting in and out. When the others started to stir, much earlier than usual, Ludwig waited until they had all gathered in the kitchen before he went into the bedroom.</p>
  <p>He heard heavy footsteps behind him, but didn't look back. He had a feeling about who it was.</p>
  <p>Going into the room that he had shared with Lukas, he took up the bag that had been set upon the bed for him, and started to gather up what few things he owned. Clothes. A shadow fell over him. Boots. Someone watched from behind. Magnus' money. All he really had. As he knelt down and folded his clothes to fit them in, he heard a rumbling voice from behind.</p>
  <p>"I'm glad."</p>
  <p>And for whatever reason Berwald was glad didn't really matter so much to Ludwig then, because he had already set his mind on his new task and was trying to follow his own ideals for once. Berwald being there was only a benefit.</p>
  <p>Still, Ludwig only kept his eyes on the clothes he stuffed into the bag, and said, coolly, "I haven't told you where I'm goin' yet."</p>
  <p>Berwald snorted.</p>
  <p>"Don't need to. I know."</p>
  <p>"Oh?" he asked, casually, even as his veins lit up with adrenaline, "And how's that?"</p>
  <p>"Cause," Berwald responded, simply. "If you were goin' off somewhere else, you'd've jumped outta the window when we were all sleepin'."</p>
  <p>Well. Maybe that was true.</p>
  <p>Ludwig gave a laugh, and zipped the bag up. A movement at his side, and Berwald was hovering above him.</p>
  <p>"I'm glad," he repeated, and reached out.</p>
  <p>Berwald extended a hand.</p>
  <p>The first instinct was to accept it with eagerness, and let Berwald yank him up to his feet, because damn if he didn't love being close to Berwald. He hesitated, though, because he had two legs and could pull himself up on his own.</p>
  <p>So he did.</p>
  <p>Berwald tilted his head, stared at him, and then lowered his arm back down.</p>
  <p>He liked Berwald more than was appropriate, perhaps, and for that Ludwig wanted Berwald to respect him. A good start to that was to put his foot down a little and let Berwald know that he didn't need someone to reach down and help him up off the floor.</p>
  <p>He understood that Berwald liked being the 'leader', he <em>liked </em>being the protector and the guide, and he liked to watch over everyone in his group. He liked to keep everyone close and safe. That was great. That was one of Berwald's most endearing qualities, being that huge, silent sentinel. But Ludwig could take care of himself, at least physically. It was a simple gesture, but some part of him wondered, had he taken Berwald's helping hand, if maybe Berwald would somehow have looked down a little on him for it.</p>
  <p>If they were using him, then he wanted them to know that it was only because he was letting himself be used.</p>
  <p>When he was standing, Berwald looked him up and down, pushed his glasses up his nose, and asked, "Got everythin'?"</p>
  <p>He nodded.</p>
  <p>"Then. Let's go."</p>
  <p>He'd follow these men, wherever they led him, because they were the closest things he had now to brothers. Gilbert was gone, and so Ludwig, in his stead, followed Berwald, because Berwald was the leader. Where Berwald went, he would go, too. He'd follow Berwald, wherever he led him.</p>
  <p>He was a soldier. A soldier's duty was to obey the leader. He'd been taught to operate as a unit, and a unit could only function under a commander. Berwald was his commander now. He'd follow Berwald into hell and wouldn't worry about whether he'd come back or not. If he died out there in Estonia, or Finland, or wherever Berwald led him, then he would do so with dignity. It was as simple as that.</p>
  <p>He had realized, in his long night of thoughts, that he had only jumped because he didn't want to hurt people who couldn't fight back. Not because he didn't want to fight at all. He wasn't afraid to fight, wasn't afraid to die, as Gilbert never had been, and it occurred to him that, whatever they had him do, it would be as much against foreign occupiers as it would have been had he stayed in the army.</p>
  <p>He followed them then because he wanted to protect people that couldn't fight back.</p>
  <p>That was, after all, the reason he had become a soldier in the first place.</p>
  <p>He tossed his bag into the car, sat in the passenger's seat next to Berwald, and said goodbye to another house that had been very close to becoming a home. He regretted losing it as much as he had the first. Berwald's fingers drummed the steering wheel, and Ludwig placed his elbow on the windowsill, holding his chin in his palm and watching the house fading in the side mirror. He watched it until it was gone.</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>He could handle it, because in the end, wherever Berwald was...</p>
  <p>That was home.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Fair-Weather Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 10</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Fair-Weather Friends</strong>
  </p>
  <p>"Seasick?"</p>
  <p>Lurching.</p>
  <p>"Please...don't talk to me."</p>
  <p>Up and down.</p>
  <p>Berwald gripped the railing in his hands, staring out at the sea as the ship sank up and down in the breaking waves, the wind whipping so fast that it stung his eyes even behind his glasses.</p>
  <p>The sea was a mellow green. The sky was a vibrant blue. Tufts of white clouds drifting by lazily. The smell of salt and clean air and a distant whiff of a forest. Berwald loved the sea. Always had. Some of the best times of his life had been huddled up in a blanket in the tiny cabin of his fishing boat, listening to the sea banging just outside. The feel of the lolling waves.</p>
  <p>Magnus loved the sea. Lukas loved the sea. Timo? He loved the beach, but being on the water? Not so much.</p>
  <p>Ludwig?</p>
  <p>Berwald glanced over, to where Ludwig had sunk down below the railing, knees pulled up to his chest in an attempt to keep his body steady despite the rolling sea, and the paleness of his face (buried now in his folded arms) was a clear indicator that he was but one rogue wave away from vomiting.</p>
  <p>Well, not everyone was cut out to be on the water. It would be over soon. It wasn't a great distance until the island.</p>
  <p>It was easy for Berwald to stand here and watch the waves, even if Ludwig had turned into a huddled mass of misery. He'd missed the sea. He'd missed the look and smell and feel of the water. A part of his life that had been set aside for this war.</p>
  <p>Beneath the joy of being on the sea, there was something else.</p>
  <p>Longing.</p>
  <p>It had been a little heartbreaking to leave behind that quiet little house that he had gotten used to. Having a place to go to every night, after so many years of wandering, had been indescribable. Almost a home, as long as others were with him. He'd miss that, as much as he had ever missed the sea.</p>
  <p>As hard as it had been for him, he could see the awful way that Ludwig had stared up at the house long after everyone else had gotten into the car. They had tried so hard to break it to him easy. Days and days of looking at each other in the halls and whispering in corners about how they were going to do it. Granted, it hadn't been the most eloquent of efforts. They could have done it a little better.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had finally started to settle in, and now they had gone and uprooted him all over again.</p>
  <p>It would be alright. He had faith in Ludwig, who had already taken difficulties in such good stride. He could do it again. Ludwig would be alright in time. The seasickness, however...</p>
  <p>Not so easy to overcome.</p>
  <p>A stifled moan of misery rose up above the roaring of the waves, and Timo, smiling widely, knelt down on one knee and placed a hand on Ludwig's back, patting him gently as he crooned, "Just keep your eyes closed, eh? It'll pass."</p>
  <p>Ludwig muttered something that Berwald couldn't understand, and Timo burst into laughter and looked up at them, his smile as bright as the sun. At his other side, Lukas was leaning over the railing, gawking down at the water as the ship cut through it, and Magnus was gripping a handful of his shirt, just in case he slipped.</p>
  <p>What a group they made.</p>
  <p>Ludwig finally lifted his head up from his arms, looked around a little blearily, and asked, weakly, "Are we there yet?"</p>
  <p>Berwald snorted.</p>
  <p>"Not yet."</p>
  <p>The paleness of Ludwig's face, as sad as it was, still made him smile, and when they broke against a rather large wave, Ludwig inhaled a great, wavering breath and reburied his face in his arms. It was kinda funny to see strong, broad-shouldered Ludwig moaning in misery and writhing in the churns of illness because of a few waves. The soldier bested by the sea. Happened.</p>
  <p>Magnus glanced over, still clutching Lukas by the shirt, and said, a bit callously, "I guess this is why you didn't sign up to be a Kriegsmarine, huh?"</p>
  <p>A silence, as Ludwig gathered his breath.</p>
  <p>And then a low, rumbling, almost pitiful, "Fuck <em>you</em>."</p>
  <p>Magnus just tittered.</p>
  <p>Berwald turned his eyes back to the sea, leaning against the railing, and felt his mood sink a little, even as the others made pleasant chatter.</p>
  <p>"Well, do you at least know how to swim?"</p>
  <p>Gotland was finally visible over the breaking waves. The last island of Sweden before the edge of occupied waters.</p>
  <p>"I can swim <em>fine</em>. I just—urgh—I've never been on a—a ship."</p>
  <p>This was just the beginning. The easy part.</p>
  <p>Somehow, the blue sky suddenly looked a little grey.</p>
  <p>Crossing the sea from here would be the real test for Ludwig, and they hadn't even told him what to expect. They hadn't tried to prepare him. No one wanted to say it, no one wanted to tell Ludwig anything, because they wanted him to stay. Nobody wanted to scare Ludwig off. Ludwig knew that he didn't <em>have</em> to stay, that he didn't have to do anything they did, and that was why they played everything so coolly and worded things in a sweet manner.</p>
  <p>They may have had their hand upon the chess clock, but Ludwig still had a queen up his sleeve in that they couldn't really predict exactly where his lines were.</p>
  <p>The land drew closer and closer, and when Timo reached down and touched Ludwig's shoulder and said, "We're here," Ludwig let out a great sigh of relief.</p>
  <p>The ship docked, slowly and carefully, and they started to make their way down to the end to get the cars. Ludwig stopped every so often, looked down at the lapping water below, and hissed air through his teeth. Well, it was over for now. Ludwig would dry out on land and get back together before they set out again.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus took the keys and split up to get the vehicles, and the rest of them walked off the ship, and waited on the other side. Ludwig seemed glad as hell when his feet hit solid ground.</p>
  <p>The cars crossed over, and they got in.</p>
  <p>Lukas went straight over to Magnus, and it didn't really surprise Berwald much that Ludwig waited to see which car <em>he</em> would go to and then followed behind. It didn't surprise him, and, well...</p>
  <p>He was actually looking forward to it, Ludwig following him everywhere. Had been for weeks now, and maybe that was Berwald's fault for hovering over him as he had. Wouldn't complain.</p>
  <p>He looked back to steal a glance, and Ludwig smiled at him, a bit wearily. He was still white as a sheet, but seemed much more content in the car.</p>
  <p>"So!" Ludwig began, as he leaned forward and threw his arm up on Berwald's seat, so closely. "Do I at least get a briefing on how we're getting to Estonia from here or is that a surprise, too?"</p>
  <p>Timo sent Ludwig a look out of the corner of his eye, shifting a bit guiltily, and turned away from Ludwig to stare straight ahead. Berwald squirmed under Ludwig's gaze, and wondered if they might have been pressing their luck with Ludwig.</p>
  <p>So Berwald said, lamely, "We'll talk about it when we get there."</p>
  <p>If Ludwig was angry, he hid it well and fell silent, and Ludwig's arm stayed there on the top of his seat for the whole ride. That didn't really bother him, either. They drove in relative silence, not completely awkward, and every so often Berwald would look back at Ludwig, so close, and try to think of something to say.</p>
  <p>But what was there to talk about?</p>
  <p>Felt so guilty, taking Ludwig for ride after ride as they did.</p>
  <p>So Berwald just sat there, glanced over his shoulder from time to time, and stayed silent. Timo didn't, and was very determined to lighten the mood.</p>
  <p>Glancing up in the mirror, Timo got <em>that </em>look on his face (the sneaky one) and he asked, in a very smooth voice, "I like those new clothes, Ludwig. They look nice."</p>
  <p>Ludwig leaned in, as restless as he was, his head poking in between the front seats, and said, "Thanks."</p>
  <p>Timo glanced over at Berwald, and added, "Don't you think, Berwald?"</p>
  <p>Berwald opened his mouth, and when Ludwig turned to look at him, he quickly lost his train of thought. Damn. He hated being put on the spot like this. Hard to think lately, too, because Ludwig's gaze was ever more potent. Those pretty eyes had an uncanny ability to freeze him in place.</p>
  <p>Finally, he managed to say, a bit weakly, "Yeah. Looks good."</p>
  <p>Ludwig seemed satisfied, but Timo wasn't done.</p>
  <p>"You know, I think with those clothes and your hair back the way you do, you kind of look like a blond Clark Gable, right Berwald?"</p>
  <p>Berwald narrowed his eyes and sent Timo a foul look. Did Timo plan this stuff out or was it all just spontaneous? Either way, it was annoying as hell. Timo liked to see him squirm, and that was <em>not </em>alright.</p>
  <p>Timo was unfazed at his glare and broke into a great smile when Ludwig, in a rare moment of almost Magnus-like vanity, reached up with his left hand to smooth back his hair, and it was obvious by now that his ego had been well-stoked. Maybe Ludwig had been hanging around Magnus a little <em>too </em>much. He'd have to put a stop to that.</p>
  <p>And as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Timo pressed his luck by turning yet again to Berwald and saying, "I think he and Magnus could be in movies."</p>
  <p>Timo's bright smile and the sudden smirk on Ludwig's face for some reason made Berwald feel a bit morose. Because Ludwig and Magnus were remarkably handsome, unfairly so, actually. When they stood side by side, it really was as if two movie stars had walked in, with their perfect features and pretty eyes. And that was why, after all, Magnus had all but won and Timo didn't know Berwald existed.</p>
  <p>Absently, he reached up and pushed his glasses up his nose, and as his fingers crept back down, they drifted across the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, broken long ago in some mostly forgotten bar fight. Crooked as it was. His hands were scarred. His hair never had really looked like he had wanted it to. Sometimes, he realized that his wide, square jaw didn't mix so well with his cheeks. Didn't care much for the sound of his own voice.</p>
  <p>Timo was blinded by Magnus' handsome face, and Ludwig would have hardly noticed Berwald any more than Timo ever had.</p>
  <p>Agitated all of a sudden, he grumbled, "Let's survive the war first, before we make any plans to go to Hollywood."</p>
  <p>Timo's smile fell a little, at the tone of his voice, but Ludwig didn't seem bothered. Somehow, Berwald had a feeling that Ludwig would rather have gone right back into the war than go off into the very different kind of war that was Hollywood. Timo was cut out for pictures far more than quiet, reserved Ludwig. No matter how handsome Ludwig was.</p>
  <p>...handsome guys like Ludwig never really gave the time of day to guys like him.</p>
  <p>Story of his life.</p>
  <p>Berwald turned his head, just a bit, to eyeball Ludwig's handsomeness a bit more and bemoan his own lack thereof, but when he did so he came nearly nose to nose with Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Ah.</p>
  <p>Adrenaline rush.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't pull back, just leaned there and stared at him, and beyond Berwald's nervous swallow, it did occur to him that in the center of Ludwig's white-blue eyes there was an encircling ring of gold around the pupils. Flecks of darker blue within the irises. Really, though, Ludwig did have the prettiest eyes Berwald had ever seen.</p>
  <p>A simple detail, maybe a strange one to take notice of. Wouldn't be the first time. Berwald had noticed such things about all of them. Such details were necessary to him, because by noticing these little traits the men around him were made <em>real</em>. They weren't just 'those guys'. They were more. Comrades, and by making them that way it was easier to trust them and to protect them in turn.</p>
  <p>By noticing the sharpness of Magnus' cheekbones and the way the cut of his hair exposed the back of his neck and the particular aroma of his cologne, he wasn't just the loud-mouth with the bad aim and the messy clothes and the over-excitability. He was Magnus.</p>
  <p>By noticing the angle at which Lukas' feet hit the ground and the way his hands flowed when he was at work and the way his canines pushed out when he smiled, he wasn't just the weirdo with the distant eyes and silvery voice and impassive attitude. He was Lukas.</p>
  <p>By noticing the width of Timo's fingers and the dimples in his cheeks and the way that his neatly clipped bangs always fell right above his eyebrows, he wasn't just the handsome Finn with the short fuse and the cute face and a rather focused hatred for Soviets. He was Timo.</p>
  <p>And now, by noticing the complexity of the shades in Ludwig's eyes and the way his hair was so pale it was nearly white in the light and the way he shaved his sideburns in a long, neat curve, he wasn't just that Nazi with the deep voice and the quiet air and the broad shoulders.</p>
  <p>He was just Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Hell, in a couple of months they would have been <em>with </em>Ludwig longer than without. He needed to observe things like that. It made it so much easier to call these men friends, and by making them close by noticing things about them, it was easier to feel connected to them and willing to risk personal injury for their safety. In these circumstances, maybe getting close was a foolish thing, but if you couldn't fight for <em>someone</em>, then why even bother?</p>
  <p>It was the only way he could keep the group together.</p>
  <p>So, as Ludwig's eyes ran over his face then, he hoped that Ludwig was doing the same thing. Seeing and observing and remembering little things. He hoped that Ludwig saw Berwald, and not just the Swede.</p>
  <p>As these thoughts ran hopelessly through his head, and as Ludwig's unrelenting gaze continued to catch his own no matter how many times he looked back, their destination came upon them without him really noticing it. Only the sudden breaking of Ludwig's gaze and the lurching of the car gave away that they had arrived. He turned his head, following Ludwig's eyes up to the pretty house before them.</p>
  <p>The doors of the car clicked open, and he stepped out. When he looked over, Ludwig had settled in beside of him. As usual.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Lukas pulled in behind them, and suddenly they were all together again.</p>
  <p>Well, then.</p>
  <p>It was time to start, and Ludwig was shifting suddenly, anxiously.</p>
  <p>"Well," Magnus said, taking a step forward in the drive, "Let's get the cars covered."</p>
  <p>They moved, first removing all of the bags out and then taking the tarps from the trunks and making sure the cars were protected from the elements until they were needed again. As they worked, Ludwig just crossed his arms, and before long he had wandered off down to the beach below the house. Berwald watched him go, and wished that he had the courage to just lay everything out straight for Ludwig. Just once.</p>
  <p>Evening was approaching. The waves were roaring off behind the house.</p>
  <p>They were ready, more or less, and joined Ludwig down below.</p>
  <p>The first sight of the beach, around the back of the hedges, was a welcome sight for his melancholy. The break of the surf upon the sand, as the weeds holding the sand dunes together swayed back and forth and the clouds drifted by, already started to make him feel a little better. The sea, that had appeared so vibrant from above in the ship, was now grey.</p>
  <p>Lukas climbed up a large rock that jutted out from between the curve in the sand dunes, sitting rather happily on top of it. Timo and Ludwig stood before it, staring out at the sea, and Magnus had rolled up his pant legs and taken off his shoes to wander in the surf.</p>
  <p>Broken seashells littered the sand beneath his boots.</p>
  <p>The wind was cooler now than before, as the sun lowered down on the horizon, and stronger.</p>
  <p>Magnus looked up from his play, eyes squinted in the wind, and it surprised Berwald that Magnus was the first to address him.</p>
  <p>"Hey, Berwald!" he called, his voice drifting in and out in the breeze, "Wanna go fishing 'fore we leave?"</p>
  <p>Berwald stood still, hands in his pockets, and felt his brow raising up. Huh. Magnus must have been in a damn good mood.</p>
  <p>He opened his mouth with the intention of saying something smart (maybe, 'only if you're the bait') but Ludwig had looked back and was watching him, so he changed tune, even if Ludwig didn't understand what they were saying. Tone spoke volumes, and Ludwig was always <em>watching</em> him. Felt the need to straighten up his act sometimes, the way Ludwig stared at him.</p>
  <p>"Not enough time. Maybe when we come back, we'll stay here for a while."</p>
  <p>Magnus gave a short laugh, and carried on tromping through the wet sand.</p>
  <p>Nobody needed to add, '<em>if </em>we come back'.</p>
  <p>He walked down to where the others stood, and settled in at Ludwig's side as Timo smiled over at him. Ludwig shifted a little, uncomfortable as they spoke in a language he couldn't understand.</p>
  <p>"You looked over the waters?"</p>
  <p>Timo clicked his tongue, murmuring, "Well, Lukas and Magnus were messin' with the radio on the way here. They say the patrol's pretty loose today. East is mostly clear. We'll go that way and loop around."</p>
  <p>"What are we gonna do with the boat?"</p>
  <p>"Leave it," Timo said, quite simply. "The guys will drive back and figure out someplace to put it for us. We just need to worry about getting down the road without a problem."</p>
  <p>"Roadblocks bad?"</p>
  <p>"Not as bad as before, but still there. That's why we're walkin'."</p>
  <p>Berwald wouldn't lie and say he wasn't nervous. He'd never been to Estonia before. He'd crossed borders, but never on a boat. He'd have to leave this one to Timo and Magnus, and hope that they got them there without bumping into a Soviet patrol. That would be a disaster. Probably a fatal one. So many things could go wrong on the water, and there was no way to flee like they could have on the land.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had finally had enough of being kept in the dark, and turned to Timo with a stern brow.</p>
  <p>"So when are we leaving?"</p>
  <p>Timo tried to keep a casual smile, but it was a little hard to keep it up under Ludwig's relentless gaze, and finally he gave a sigh and shook his head.</p>
  <p>"We wait until evening," Timo said, transitioning back to smooth German as he leaned back against the rock and watched the sea. "Once it's gettin' dark, that's when we go. They've got boats patrolling the waters, so we have to be quiet. We'll be kind of winging it—it's gonna be dark. We're gonna have to move fast and keep low. No lights."</p>
  <p>Ludwig lowered his eyes to the sand beneath his feet, pursed his lips, and didn't say a word. The waves lapped gently on the beach as the tide started to come in.</p>
  <p>"It's gonna take all night. We'll get there by early morning. Once we land, we pull our boat up into a bay. We walk in the dark until we find the road. If we navigated right, we should find a little town. They'll meet us there. If all goes well. If we don't run into trouble on the water."</p>
  <p>Timo sent Ludwig a very pointed look then, and Berwald could see that he was saying, silently, 'so don't get sick.'</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked a little morose, as he finally raised his eyes up to watch the grey sea.</p>
  <p>Berwald could only hope that Ludwig could keep it together and not let them down, one way or another. Didn't know about his ability to keep cool in a tight spot, in a dangerous situation in unknown lands with a foreign enemy that he had never fought. Ludwig was young, and probably inexperienced. Only so much could be expected of him out here. Who could ever jump into something like this and be good at it right off?</p>
  <p>He was worried that Ludwig would freeze up and miss vital shots, or panic and end up <em>getting </em>shot.</p>
  <p>Ludwig finally sighed, and then looked around at them, asking, "So. Where's our boat?"</p>
  <p>Magnus, still wetting his feet, raised his head, facing the breeze, and smiled.</p>
  <p>"That's the easy part. Leave that to me."</p>
  <p>Ludwig, not surprisingly, did not seem very reassured, but he fell silent all the same, and stood there.</p>
  <p>They didn't talk much, simply watching as the sun sank ever lower. Thinking. Planning. Preparing.</p>
  <p>Dreading.</p>
  <p>Magnus came out of the water when the sky started getting dark, and plopped down on the dry sand in front of Timo to pull on his boots. Timo reached out with his own boot, when he thought that no one was looking, and prodded Magnus playfully upon the back. Magnus looked up, and sent him a look of false irritation. Communicating without words. A long stare. They didn't think anyone was looking.</p>
  <p>Berwald saw.</p>
  <p>For once, he was too sick with anxiety to even care. He had bigger things to worry about.</p>
  <p>If they bumped into a Soviet boat, or their own boat ran into problems, or if they encountered hostile fire from the shore, and if so, if Ludwig got seasick again and couldn't shoot...</p>
  <p>So many things. Getting over was the hardest part.</p>
  <p>The stars started to come out behind the pink of the setting sun. The air was colder. The wind was so strong now that it stung his skin as it whipped up sand. The sunlight faded. No one spoke anymore. As soon as the sun was gone and night was starting, Magnus left the group to wander off alone, his boots sinking into the sand as he walked.</p>
  <p>They stayed put, and waited.</p>
  <p>A half hour, and then an hour, and Timo started to look out at the dark water with agitation, brow furrowed as he shielded his eyes with his hand.</p>
  <p>The moonlight glinted off the waves.</p>
  <p>As Berwald looked up at it, half-full and very bright in the cloudless sky, he wondered if maybe they should wait until the new moon. Too much light. He had just opened his mouth to suggest it when the whir of a motor came over the roar of the waves. They looked out into the sea, at the small boat that came racing up. The engine on the boat shut off as it pressed up into the sand. Magnus sat inside, and looked quite content.</p>
  <p>"Like it?" he cried over the sound of the sea, and Timo just shook his head.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked like he was staring at a dead body rather than a boat. Well, one could lead to the other, in these times.</p>
  <p>Minutes later, all of the bags were loaded, and a question was posed.</p>
  <p>"So, who's gettin' wet?" Magnus asked, quite cheerily, as he looked back at them over the edge of the boat, the smile evident on his face by the light of the moon. "Water's cold as fuck!" he added, just because he could, and they shared a look.</p>
  <p>To Berwald's surprise, it was Ludwig who stepped forward.</p>
  <p>"I'll do it."</p>
  <p>Berwald turned to look at Ludwig, who had bent down to remove his boots, and muttered, "S'alright, I can do it."</p>
  <p>It was his job, perhaps.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, pulling off his socks, just shook his head.</p>
  <p>"I'll do it. You guys did everything else."</p>
  <p>Alright then.</p>
  <p>He took his seat in the boat, as Ludwig tossed in his socks and boots, and then grabbed the edge of the boat and started to push it back into the water. Berwald heard his hiss as a wave broke over him, dousing him in what was surely alarmingly cold water.</p>
  <p>A muttered curse he couldn't catch.</p>
  <p>"That's good!" Magnus called back, as Ludwig had gone out nearly up to his chest.</p>
  <p>A slosh of water and a rocking of the boat as Ludwig hoisted himself up and tried to climb inside. Berwald reached out and took up a handful of his wet shirt, hauling him in the rest of the way. As soon as Ludwig settled down, dripping water all over the place and shivering, Timo took off his coat and tossed it over. It was received gratefully.</p>
  <p>Lukas reached back and cranked up the engine of the boat, after a few tries, and they were off.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, shivering from the cold and trying to unroll his socks, only managed to fumble them.</p>
  <p>"Goddammit!" he hissed, in agitation, as one of them fell right out. Grabbing the edge of the boat, he looked back over the water, and muttered, under his breath, "There goes my goddamn sock."</p>
  <p>Timo pursed his lips to stifle his laugh.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was not amused, and leaned back, already looking to be in a rather foul mood. Berwald couldn't really blame him.</p>
  <p>He looked over from time to time, as Ludwig closed his eyes and bowed his head, and waited for the seasickness to start up. But, as the minutes passed, and then the hour turned into two and then three, nothing happened. Ludwig didn't get that paleness of nausea. It didn't seem to come.</p>
  <p>"You know," Timo whispered, as they cut through the waves, "they say every boat has a different way of moving, and only a few of them make you sick. Maybe the big ships are worse for you."</p>
  <p>Ludwig grumbled, "Let's not get on another one just to find out."</p>
  <p>Up and down, up and down. The waves passed. No land visible. Just this little boat, rocking up and down in the waves, and the glimmer of moonlight on the sea. Out in the middle of nowhere. Exposed. Hours of endless water. Everything looked the same. The moon rose higher. It must have been midnight already.</p>
  <p>Lukas had nodded off, chin tucked down into the collar of his coat as he slept, his quiet snoring lost amidst the sound of the waves. Timo's head fell every so often, and he started and looked up, blearily, only to drift off again a few minutes later. Berwald was tired, sleepy as hell, but he was too nervous to fall asleep. Ludwig came in and out, Timo's coat slung over his chest and legs as he tried to sleep. He couldn't really seem to, and Berwald often looked over to find himself being stared at.</p>
  <p>Only Magnus was wide awake, up front and grabbing the wheel as he read the compass in the light of the moon. He started to hum every so often.</p>
  <p>So far, so good. No signs of Soviet patrols, but maybe they had not yet crossed into their waters. Only Magnus knew when that line would be reached, and then the engine would be cut. Couldn't risk the noise.</p>
  <p>Cold and tired and sleepy and miserable, those left awake looked at each other, and Magnus' humming drew Ludwig's attention. A moment of silence, as Ludwig looked about at the vast sea and tried to gather his bearings.</p>
  <p>"Whose boat is this?" Ludwig asked later, through a clenched jaw as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering with the cold, and Magnus glanced back at him.</p>
  <p>A sly look.</p>
  <p>"Don't worry about it. Let's just say we're <em>borrowing </em>it. Ah. Permanently."</p>
  <p>Right. Borrowing.</p>
  <p>"Great," Ludwig muttered, as he pulled his wet legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them in an attempt to warm up, "We're entering Soviet waters in a stolen boat."</p>
  <p>"Ah, come on," Magnus said quietly from upfront, his voice barely rising above the breaking waves, "Where's your sense of adventure?"</p>
  <p>Shivering away, Ludwig grumbled, irritably, "Back there in my fuckin' sock."</p>
  <p>The rest of the journey passed in relative silence, until an hour later when Magnus stopped humming and looked up with a furrowed brow, and then, after a hesitation, silence.</p>
  <p>The engine died.</p>
  <p>No movement; Ludwig had fallen asleep.</p>
  <p>Berwald looked over at Magnus, breath visible in the cold air, and asked, "We're here?"</p>
  <p>"Yup," Magnus confirmed. "Time to get the oars."</p>
  <p>He hadn't been looking forward to this part of the journey.</p>
  <p>The oars were on the floor of the boat, and getting to them meant having to wake up those who sat above them. Magnus came back, and reached out to prod Timo's shoulder. Berwald grabbed Ludwig's, and shook him. Ludwig woke up in an instant, and the look on his face was very close to alarm.</p>
  <p>Felt bad about it, and it made him worry all the more about Ludwig under pressure.</p>
  <p>They looked at each other when the oars were ready, and Magnus asked, "Well, who wants to go first?"</p>
  <p>"I'll do it," Ludwig said, yet again, and Berwald couldn't help but wonder if maybe Ludwig was just trying too hard. For what?</p>
  <p>Lukas, awake and alert now, interrupted, looking over each of them with those owl-like eyes of scrutiny.</p>
  <p>"No, that's not a good idea. Me and Timo should go first. That way, when we get closer to the shore, Ludwig and Berwald can row. They can get us away from the water faster, if we run into trouble. Magnus navigates."</p>
  <p>They looked around, and the matter seemed settled. Timo and Lukas went to the sides, oars in hands, and Ludwig and Berwald had to shuffle to the back of the boat. The peaceful sloshing of the waves was broken by the sudden splashing of the oars.</p>
  <p>Magnus was quick to look back and chide, in a quiet hiss, "Not so loud. Easy goin', eh?"</p>
  <p>All Magnus had to do was sit down and steer. Easy for him to say.</p>
  <p>Ludwig squeezed in beside of him suddenly, a shoulder pressed into his own. Somehow, it startled Berwald greatly when Ludwig fell back against the side of the boat in a manner that pressed him directly into Berwald's side in a very conforming manner, and yet, at the same time...</p>
  <p>It didn't really surprise him. It was kinda nice, to be paid attention to for once. So he sat there, and let Ludwig squish him up against the narrow end of the boat, and didn't say a word.</p>
  <p>The oars suddenly found their rhythm in the water, and it was easy to forget, at least for now, that they were in enemy territory. Cold air, the moon on high, waves lapping at the boat and the wind whistling in his ears, the salt of the sea and the endless horizon; it felt more like home. Ludwig nodding off right beside of him, chin down in his collar and eyes closed, didn't hurt anything, either.</p>
  <p>The water glided by.</p>
  <p>Time passed uneventfully, and for the first time, he started to drift. Kind of hard not to, as cold as the air was and as warm as Ludwig was beside of him. He only closed his eyes for a second. That was enough. Darkness, and he was out like a light.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was the only one that had ever sat beside of him.</p>
  <p>"Hey, Berwald!"</p>
  <p>Blearily, he came out of the depths of sleep and looked up.</p>
  <p>Timo and Lukas were staring back at him.</p>
  <p>A whisper.</p>
  <p>"Berwald. Look."</p>
  <p>Confused and tired, he could only stare back at them, too dazed to really think.</p>
  <p>A bright light suddenly broke out from within the darkness, and hit them. Only for a second, but the way Ludwig's hair lit up white and the way Berwald had to squint his eyes was enough to alarm him. Ludwig woke up at the interruption. The light was out over the water now, stretching out into the distance. A strong light meant a big ship. They looked over to the left, and everyone fell still. The oars stopped dead in the water. A ship drifted in the distance, a light atop swinging back and forth as it cut through the waves.</p>
  <p>Red star. Soviet.</p>
  <p>Magnus, for once, summed up the situation quite well by muttering under his breath, "Oh, shit."</p>
  <p>They fell still, the boat rising up and down in the waves as they stared at the ship looming in the distance, and Berwald could only pray that they hadn't been spotted, that maybe the crew had been distracted when the light had come over them. That maybe they were still safe.</p>
  <p>Timo's hands were gripping the oar so tightly that his knuckles were as white as the moon.</p>
  <p>Time to go, before the light swept back over. No point in risking a second exposure.</p>
  <p>"Switch off," he muttered, as quietly as he could, as the ship floated in the cold sea and lurched along, its lights gleaming out over the water in a much more ominous way than the moonlight did.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Timo fell back, and he and Ludwig, startled rather harshly from sleep, took over the oars. It was hard to stay quiet, when the urge to panic and get away as quickly as possible threatened to take over. The oars seemed like they made far too much noise as they sloshed along, trying to keep in sync without becoming too desperate.</p>
  <p>The ship drifted silently, and they passed it by from a distance, trying very hard not to make so much noise that the crew suddenly noticed them and swung the light back over.</p>
  <p>But the water passed and passed, and the light never came back. Nothing happened.</p>
  <p>They rowed on, and the first sight of land, black against the dark blue sky, was very nearly breathtaking.</p>
  <p>Magnus tried to keep the boat on course as they sped up, and for an alarming moment Berwald realized that he could barely keep up with Ludwig's pace, when he saw Magnus twisting the wheel farther and farther to the left in an effort to keep straight.</p>
  <p>He looked over, to see Ludwig sitting there, forehead shimmering with sweat and breathing as quietly as he could through his mouth, and his arms raised and lowered the oar in very quick, very aggressive strokes. No doubt just because he was terrified at the thought of being caught by the Soviet military.</p>
  <p>All Berwald could really focus on was that he could not match Ludwig. He was slower. No matter how hard he pulled the oar. That old nagging sense of insecurity came back up; that maybe he was being overshadowed by younger members. Unable to keep up. Old man.</p>
  <p>The land was closer, and he was glad when it was close enough to distinguish individual trees and sand. He was glad because Ludwig finally slowed down, and the pace was one that he could match.</p>
  <p>Magnus held up his hand in a call for silence. They stopped. Land was tantalizingly close. Now there was the threat of boats as small as their own sneaking up on them before they had the chance to get away.</p>
  <p>Magnus was standing up, looking out over the water and searching this way and that. When he saw nothing, he settled back down and whispered, "Go slow."</p>
  <p>They did, creeping along through the water at an unbearable pace.</p>
  <p>Almost over. So close.</p>
  <p>The scariest experience, crawling towards shore and looking over their shoulders every few seconds to make sure that a Soviet boat wasn't rushing up behind them. The closer they got, the more the panic intensified.</p>
  <p>Brush and high grass beyond the sand.</p>
  <p>A cut into the shore curved and formed a little bay, of sorts, a patch of sand that was fairly hidden from the sight of the rest of the beach, and when they finally paddled into the still waters cradled by the land around, it was with great relief.</p>
  <p>Base. Heaven.</p>
  <p>They landed, safe and sound.</p>
  <p>The oars were tossed into the bottom of the boat, and then the bags were hauled out into the sand, and they stopped for a moment to look around. No one in sight. A ship light, but far in the distance.</p>
  <p>"Let's go," Timo whispered.</p>
  <p>They pulled the little boat up into the sand as far as it would go, hiding it as best they could amidst the trees to which Magnus quickly tethered it, and right when they were gathering up their bags and breathing sighs of relief, there was a rustle in the distance.</p>
  <p>A faint motor. A boat coming up.</p>
  <p>They dragged the bags up the shore and tried to pull them up into the brush, but were quickly forced to fall completely still. Muffled voices. A light. Footsteps. They froze up like statues where they stood. By going up into the trees they had put themselves above the safety of the sand dunes, and Berwald was frighteningly aware of that.</p>
  <p>No one moved.</p>
  <p>Berwald could see, by the dim light of the moon that came in through the trees, that Magnus had covered his mouth and nose with his hand to stifle his breathing, as he crouched down on one knee. Timo and Lukas had disappeared behind the trees, hidden well away and out of sight. Berwald found himself half behind a tree and half out. Ludwig, the last to trudge up the hill, was very nearly in the open, crouching down in some scraggly brush and despite his efforts to disappear, he was almost completely visible.</p>
  <p>As the voices came closer, Berwald had an awful moment of anxiety.</p>
  <p>He thought that Ludwig would panic, as apprehensive as he had been not so long ago, and make a commotion by trying to scramble behind the trees. Give them away. But Ludwig had fallen so still that his chest wasn't even moving for his very shallow, silent breathing, and he had squinted his eyes completely shut. Not in fear. Berwald recognized an old technique used by some of the Finnish resistance that fought back in the white forests. Ludwig closed his eyes so they wouldn't reflect light, should the flashlight sweep over him. The training of a soldier.</p>
  <p>Good.</p>
  <p>...maybe he should have a little more faith in Ludwig. Hadn't let them down yet, at least not in anything that mattered.</p>
  <p>After a while, the footsteps fell farther away. The voices faded. Magnus' hand fell down, and he leaned up against a tree, and heaved a tense, silent sigh of relief. Timo reappeared, and grabbed up his bag.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's eyes finally opened, and Berwald could see, if only for a second, a look of weariness. Like Ludwig had already had his fair share of frightening moments. That struck him, more than anything else. That he didn't know anything about Ludwig before that train. Who knew what he'd seen and done? What a shame, that in these great wars it was always the young ones that faced the most. At this rate, it would be Ludwig who would be the old man.</p>
  <p>They took up their bags, and followed Timo through the trees.</p>
  <p>The road wasn't far.</p>
  <p>Walking up on the road, even so early in the morning, was too risky to attempt, so they followed it from down below, staying close by the forest's edge in case they needed to duck in should a car pass. An hour or so of walking, and the horizon became a little lighter as the sun prepared to rise.</p>
  <p>Magnus, maybe in an effort just to break the silence, suddenly griped, "My feet hurt! How much longer?"</p>
  <p>Timo grumbled back, "I can understand why you're tired, what with all the work you had to do in the boat. Turning a wheel is a real pain in the ass, isn't it?"</p>
  <p>Luckily, for the sake of Magnus' well-being, by the time the sun had started to color the sky pink, the town they sought was visible.</p>
  <p>He could smell smoke from chimneys as old women started rising to make bread and coffee. Familiar, comforting scenery. The town was tiny, not quite as small as the mountains from which they had come, but much smaller than the average community. In war, the smaller the town, the better.</p>
  <p>They stepped onto the asphalt for the first time, and darted quickly across and into the small streets that led into the heart of the town. Timo seemed to know exactly where he was going. Small houses passed, and streets wound and turned, and Timo led them up a short drive towards a small, rather dilapidated house. They hung back as Timo ran up to the door, just in case.</p>
  <p>A quick knock.</p>
  <p>They had been expected, apparently, and the door flew open before Timo even finished bringing down his fist. A man peered out, and there was a very short silence. Timo smiled. The door was pulled open, and the man waved a hand in the air to usher them forward.</p>
  <p>They were damn tired, all of them, and must have looked a wreck.</p>
  <p>Only Timo's attitude was not dampened, and the man suddenly broke into a wide smile and held out a hand. Timo quickly knocked it aside and was upon him immediately, and they embraced with voracious enthusiasm, so much so that both of them wound up being lifted into the air by the other. Blabbering away in either Finnish or Estonian.</p>
  <p>"This is Eduard," Timo finally said, as he waved a hand over to the man, and Berwald was the first to take his hand, and give it a firm shake.</p>
  <p>Timo led the conversation.</p>
  <p>Lukas was next. Then Magnus. From the corner of his eye, Berwald could see that Ludwig was shifting about this way and that, and no doubt he was dreading being introduced as, 'And that's Ludwig, a Nazi soldier.'</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't seem to realize that almost all of these men would <em>welcome </em>having a German on their side, not spurn him. An invaluable resource. Especially to a group as rag-tag and poorly equipped as the Forest Brothers, as they called themselves out here.</p>
  <p>Sure enough, when Ludwig took Eduard's hand, Berwald clearly heard 'Nazi'. Ludwig heard it too. Berwald could see it, just in the crease of apprehension in his brow.</p>
  <p>Eduard stood there for a minute, and then he laughed, and shook Ludwig's hand twice as hard.</p>
  <p>"Damn!" he suddenly exclaimed, in heavily accented German, "I was not expecting this!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked mortified, and nervous.</p>
  <p>Eduard ended the handshake, and slapped Ludwig on the back.</p>
  <p>"Good to have you!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig just nodded, stiffly.</p>
  <p>"Say," Eduard said, as he continued to hover above Ludwig, "What, ah, were you? Luftwaffe?"</p>
  <p>"No," Ludwig responded, in a clipped voice, and left it there.</p>
  <p>Berwald suddenly realized that the expression on Ludwig's face was not nervousness at all. It was annoyance. That as soon as everyone realized he had been a German soldier, they deemed him immediately valuable. Not for his skills, but simply for his ethnicity. Thinking he had information that he most likely did not. Ludwig was agitated at the response his being German received. Berwald shifted a bit, because he was guilty of such things too. Hadn't his first thought of Ludwig been that he was valuable simply because he was German?</p>
  <p>Damn.</p>
  <p>Eduard finally left Ludwig alone, and went back to Timo. They held a short conversation, and then Timo reclaimed his bag from the floor, and said to them, "Well, time to go again."</p>
  <p>Berwald could see Ludwig's mood steadily sinking, as his brow fell ever lower and his lips pursed. His boots fell heavily as he followed them back out into the cold morning air.</p>
  <p>"It's just down the street," Timo said, as they started to follow Eduard down the road.</p>
  <p>'Just down the street', as it turned out, was actually more like 'completely on the other side of town'.</p>
  <p>The sun was bright up in the sky by the time they came to the little house near the woods. It was as dilapidated as the other houses, maybe more so, alone on the outskirts of the town. Overgrown with dead vines, and weeds. The sight of the house seemed to make Ludwig's face fall all the more. Berwald couldn't blame him. It certainly wasn't anything like home.</p>
  <p>Home.</p>
  <p>"Forgive me!" Eduard exclaimed, a little apprehensively, as he pushed open the door and walked inside. "It's probably not nearly as nice as you were looking for. Best I could do."</p>
  <p>"It's fine," Timo said, automatically, before he even had time to really observe the inside.</p>
  <p>When the door closed behind them, it was with a sense of finality. Here they were. Their new lodgings, for who knew how long. In Estonia. Back behind enemy lines.</p>
  <p>Bags thudded on the floor, and Magnus fell quickly upon the dusty couch. It was apparent no one had lived here for a long time. Timo and Eduard stood off in a corner, speaking to each other in quiet voices, and Ludwig just stood there at Lukas' side, and looked around. Defeated. Disheartened.</p>
  <p>As the morning faded into afternoon, Timo and Eduard had settled into the kitchen, still chattering away as they sat at the table, and Ludwig and Lukas had teamed up to attempt to clean the dust from the house. Berwald was stuck in the washroom, washing the sheets and blankets from the beds in very cold water, and with very little soap.</p>
  <p>Magnus had fallen asleep on the couch.</p>
  <p>There was no food in the house. Hardly any commodities. Only a little bit of soap, a few dingy cloths, a couple of buckets for water, and a few scrub brushes.</p>
  <p>It was like starting over brand new.</p>
  <p>When he went out of the washroom door much later and took the sheets outside to hang them, he saw Ludwig off to the side, sitting on the front steps alone.</p>
  <p>Arms folded on his knees, he stared out into the distance, hair loose from hours of cleaning, and he looked absolutely exhausted. So distant. Almost dazed, in a way. Had noticed that about Ludwig these past months, how he would just stare out of the window sometimes, when he thought no one was looking. That awful look of sadness on his face. There were times that Berwald was a little terrified that Ludwig was going to start crying, and he wouldn't have known what to do about it if he had.</p>
  <p>Wondered where Ludwig's mind went sometimes.</p>
  <p>Hated seeing him like that.</p>
  <p>"Feel alright?" he finally asked, as Ludwig stared at nothing, and Ludwig nodded.</p>
  <p>Not really convincing.</p>
  <p>He didn't press the matter, and let Ludwig sit in silence. As he usually did, because he just didn't know what to say.</p>
  <p>Eduard finally took his leave when it was late in the day, and bid them all a quick farewell, with the promise to meet up very soon.</p>
  <p>As he left, he said, 'Don't worry about that boat. I'll take care of it.'</p>
  <p>The boat was hardly a concern at this point.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had busied himself with scrubbing the wooden floor clean of years of debris, and Lukas had recruited Magnus to help him swat cobwebs from the ceiling. Timo went to procure food for the house. Berwald, in the end, dropped down to his knees beside Ludwig and helped him with the floors. Found himself drifting to Ludwig lately as much as Ludwig drifted to him, and there were times now when he noticed Ludwig in a room far more quickly than he did Timo. Come to think...</p>
  <p>Actually, he hadn't really been thinking too much of Timo recently, not with the way Magnus had clearly already made it to the summit as Berwald lingered back down at base camp.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was paying him constant attention, was always nearby, and if Berwald had ever accused Timo of being blinded by Magnus' handsome face, then sometimes so too was he blinded by Ludwig's. Hard not to enjoy the attention of a very attractive individual, anyway. He was only human. Easier not to think of Timo when there was someone even prettier to distract him.</p>
  <p>That day was passed in utter exhaustion, as they cleaned the house from top to bottom and settled in, and Berwald hated that Ludwig's expression was still so dull and distant by the time they were ready to call it a night.</p>
  <p>Looked so down, so sad, so tired.</p>
  <p>Why did that bother him so much? Never had before with any of the others.</p>
  <p>Lukas looked around at them later, as they sat exhausted in various corners of the house, and asked, "So, who's sleepin' where? I actually feel tired, go figure."</p>
  <p>There were only two beds here. Two and two, and then someone was going on the couch.</p>
  <p>Berwald glanced over, and could see that Timo and Magnus were already eyeballing each other. Yeah, sure, whatever. Who cared? Jerks.</p>
  <p>When everyone was silent and no one volunteered to take the couch, Lukas came up with a creative, if not frustrating solution.</p>
  <p>"Let's draw straws."</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Goddammit.</p>
  <p>Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.</p>
  <p>Grumbling to himself under his breath and shifting back and forth restlessly, Berwald wondered what god-awful thing he had done in his past life to find himself lying here in the cold living room, struggling to pull his long legs upwards so they wouldn't dangle off the end of the couch. Could barely even fit on the damn thing. This decision should have been made on a height basis. Next time, he'd have to open his mouth a little faster.</p>
  <p>Hopefully this stay in Estonia would be a very short event. He was already sick of this place.</p>
  <p>It was only because he was absolutely drained that he managed any kind of sleep at all that night.</p>
  <p>But being in a new place, back behind the borders and in a hostile land, only brought on those old nightmares. He had thought he'd finally left them behind. It had been a while. Had nightmares every night, for years, and when he had been in that little house in the mountains they had started to get better.</p>
  <p>They came back with a vengeance that night.</p>
  <p>They were never the same, and yet somehow always equally frightening. Sometimes, he was back in the house the day his parents had died. Sometimes, it was his grandmother, leaving him alone forever. Sometimes, that bleary memory of the bar. Sometimes, the forests of Finland or the borders of Norway.</p>
  <p>Most recently, sometimes it was the train.</p>
  <p>The nightmares always started quietly. It usually came first right when he was stuck in that odd, dreamy state that was half awake and half asleep. A whisper, here and there, and sometimes he could swear that something was reaching out to brush his hair.</p>
  <p>Things intensified once he fell into a complete, light sleep. The whispers turned into voices, close by and yet not comprehensible, the darkness of night was lit up here and there by flashes of scenery and colors, and sometimes he smelled smoke.</p>
  <p>In deep sleep was when it <em>really </em>started.</p>
  <p>The worst ones were the ones where he was absolutely certain that he was awake, even if he wasn't. The voices got louder. The scenery became clear. The color seeped in. The smells were very real. And so were the faces.</p>
  <p>A field. The smell of gunpowder on his hands. He looked around, as he stood there alone in the snowy field, the moon high in the sky and a gun in his hand, and suddenly everything felt wrong.</p>
  <p>A train horn in the distance. A sense of dread. A hiss suddenly broke the tranquility of the landscape. Sparks. He looked down; a lighter in his other hand.</p>
  <p>The air was cold.</p>
  <p>He didn't remember lighting up the dynamite, but he could see the train suddenly steaming by, plumes of thick smoke rising up from the stack, and he could only stare at it, helpless. Watching the grey steel flash by, the great wheels grinding on the track, and it was a terrible feeling, knowing what the locomotive was heading toward.</p>
  <p>The lighter and gun fell from his hands as the train left him behind.</p>
  <p>He stared at the back of the train. No one there.</p>
  <p>The wind blew. The hissing of the dynamite suddenly stopped. A moment of complete stillness. Quiet. Calm.</p>
  <p>Then the blinding flash, the ringing in his ears, and the searing heat. An awful smell. He shielded his face with his arms as the debris and the flames shot out across the darkness, and he could feel the residue of ash and smoke clinging to his hair.</p>
  <p>Then everything was quiet again. Tranquility. Gentle wind. When he finally lowered his arms, there was nothing. The field suddenly melded back into the living room of this dingy little house. The train was gone. Just him, standing in the center of the house and looking around in a growing panic. Confusion.</p>
  <p>A creak on the floorboard.</p>
  <p>He stood there, frozen in place, as the curtain fluttered about, even as there wasn't any wind anymore. The shadows shifted. As he stared into the darkness, the moonlight staining the wooden floor a dull white, the curtain floated up.</p>
  <p>Footsteps.</p>
  <p>Another smell suddenly drifted out from the shadows. A smell much worse than gunpowder. A smell he was very familiar with; decayed flesh. The forests of Finland gave it off every time the wind blew the right way.</p>
  <p>A boot suddenly thrust out of the darkness and into the light cast down by the moon. He couldn't even move. Stuck in place. His ears were still ringing from the explosion. Another boot came out, and settled down by the other one. A silhouette. Moonlight upon pale hair. He stood still, and closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again there would be nothing there.</p>
  <p>A step, and then another. The smell was stronger. The awful sound of boots thudding down on the wooden floor in strange, unsteady movements.</p>
  <p>He couldn't help it; he opened his eyes.</p>
  <p>He wished he hadn't.</p>
  <p>A soldier stood before him, staggering out of the nothingness beyond and straight towards him. Behind him, he left behind a trail of blood and ash. Berwald stepped back, but the figure just kept coming, head bowed and slumped over as he dragged a leg along, hobbling across the room. The soldier suddenly looked up, and Berwald could see only his eyes and teeth, white in the moonlight. Everything else was pitch-black. Burnt beyond recognition. No skin left. The dull-green uniform was still smoldering.</p>
  <p>Another noise behind him made him turn his head.</p>
  <p>A second soldier tottering out of the darkness, and then another, and then another. Each in worse condition than the last. Soldiers that hadn't made it out of the train. Unarmed men. Sleeping when they'd died. Guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Skin and burning patches of clothing dropped off as they stumbled toward him. Quiet moaning. Their fingers were thin and sharp—just bone, with a few clinging chunks of flesh.</p>
  <p>Ha—well, they'd come to the right place if they were looking for revenge.</p>
  <p>The soldier in front of him reached out, his hand quivering in the air as he struggled to grasp a hold of Berwald's shirt. Where were they going to take him? Guess it didn't matter. He'd created this pit.</p>
  <p>Burnt fingers inched steadily closer.</p>
  <p>Where was he? The sense of despondency was turning into claustrophobia.</p>
  <p>A hand suddenly reached out and touched his hair from behind. Too much. He <em>felt</em> it. The brush created a great flood of panic. He broke free of immobility, struck out in desperation and terror, and the back of his hand connected with something very hard, and very real.</p>
  <p>"Ow!"</p>
  <p>For a terrifying moment, Berwald was certain that his dream had become something more.</p>
  <p>When he bolted upright, squinting in his eyes in the bright light, it was not because of fire, and it was not a charred soldier standing above him. No dead soldier. A live one. It was just Ludwig. Ludwig, who had survived the fire of the train.</p>
  <p>God—</p>
  <p>Just Ludwig.</p>
  <p>He couldn't see that well, but he knew it was Ludwig. The gleam of the hair, the now familiar stature, and the smell of his clothes. Stunned, Berwald sat there, trying to get a grip on his surroundings. No more smoke. That terrible smell was gone.</p>
  <p>A low whisper, as the bright sunlight of morning broke through the windows, and immediately he was mortified when he saw that Ludwig was rubbing his eye. He had hit something, alright. He'd whacked Ludwig, right in the face.</p>
  <p>He opened his mouth, but Ludwig beat him to it.</p>
  <p>"Sorry! You alright?"</p>
  <p>He slumped over and reached down, attempting to locate his glasses on the floor.</p>
  <p>"Here."</p>
  <p>Ludwig was holding out his glasses.</p>
  <p>He took them, with a low, grumbled, "Thanks."</p>
  <p>How embarrassing.</p>
  <p>Once he shoved his glasses up on his nose and his vision cleared, he looked over at Ludwig, kneeling down on one knee, and he could have sank into the floor for how awful he felt. For hitting Ludwig, sure, but the dream didn't help, either.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was staring at him with a low brow of worry, and when Berwald reached up to wipe his hair out of his eyes, he could feel that he was soaked with cold sweat, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath.</p>
  <p>Ludwig watched him, and asked, again, "You okay?"</p>
  <p>He found no words. He was, and he wasn't. His knuckles hurt. Aw, hell. Great way to start the day, punching a friend in the face. But damn. He was <em>so </em>glad that Ludwig had shaken him awake.</p>
  <p>So glad.</p>
  <p>"I'm sorry," he said, as soon as he could, and Ludwig just scoffed.</p>
  <p>"Don't worry about it. I've been hit a lot harder than that."</p>
  <p>Even so, he could see the flush of red beneath Ludwig's eye that was already starting to turn a little dark.</p>
  <p>"Sorry," he muttered again, and was waved off again.</p>
  <p>"My fault," Ludwig continued, "Looked like you were havin' a pretty bad mare, huh?"</p>
  <p>Silence, as Berwald rubbed at his aching head.</p>
  <p>"A what?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig smiled a little, half-heartedly. "Nightmare, I mean. That's what my brother used to call them."</p>
  <p>"Oh." He shifted on the couch as he pulled himself up into a more comfortable position, and he quickly noticed that Ludwig seemed quite content to stay right where he was.</p>
  <p>With his glasses, he could really observe Ludwig. He was surprised. Ludwig was usually primped and preened in the morning, clothes neatly ironed and hair combed and glossed, taking great care to shave and smooth everything out before he came out of his room. He hadn't even bothered this morning. Clothes disheveled and wrinkled, hair loose and messy and dull with salt from the sea, unshaven and very pale, he looked as tired and sad and distant as he had the day before. Miserable. Lost, almost.</p>
  <p>Berwald imagined that they looked very much alike. Mirror images.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's hand was up on the arm of the couch to keep his balance as he crouched, staring away.</p>
  <p>What a damn bad nightmare that had been, alright. Hated that welt on Ludwig's face, but was glad all the same he had come over.</p>
  <p>As they stared at each other, Ludwig's hand fell down, and he said, "I can sleep on the couch. It doesn't bother me."</p>
  <p>"I'm alright," he responded, but he appreciated the thought.</p>
  <p>Finally, Ludwig pulled himself up to his feet, and stood above.</p>
  <p>"Well, let's take turns, then."</p>
  <p>"We'll see."</p>
  <p>Ludwig nodded his head, and wandered off into the kitchen.</p>
  <p>Berwald was tired enough to go right back to sleep, but instead he hauled himself off the couch and followed Ludwig. He had been following Ludwig around a lot, lately. Didn't have any plans on stopping, either. Ludwig was the only one of these jerks that seemed to actually enjoy his company.</p>
  <p>Speaking aloud what Berwald had been thinking, Ludwig suddenly stated, very casually, "You look like shit."</p>
  <p>He sent Ludwig a gentle glare, as eggs were cracked over a pan, and finally he replied, as he started to cut bread, "Look who's talkin'."</p>
  <p>Ludwig just snorted, and kept on looking over at him as they made breakfast. Always watching him. He hadn't figured <em>that</em> one out yet.</p>
  <p>As the minutes ticked by, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Berwald was probably making more of a mess than he was helping, and surely Ludwig noticed it too. He didn't say anything, and just shook his head from time to time. Didn't even chide him when Berwald fumbled a plate of eggs straight on the floor.</p>
  <p>Instead, Ludwig only glanced down, and said, matter-of-factly, "That one's yours."</p>
  <p>Right.</p>
  <p>He cleaned up the mess, and saw Ludwig's smile. There it was! Finally. He didn't look so sad now, so lost, and Berwald was glad for that.</p>
  <p>Making Ludwig happy seemed quite important, and not just because he didn't want Ludwig to leave. Hated to say he was starting to actually get attached to Ludwig, had started caring about him, and it was a little beyond just the worry of a leader about one of his men.</p>
  <p>The way Ludwig stared at him.</p>
  <p>Their moment in unison was interrupted half an hour later, when Timo and Magnus woke up and decided to join the realm of the living. He almost wished they hadn't. He hated remembering that they slept in the same place now.</p>
  <p>Or perhaps he hadn't liked being interrupted when he was with Ludwig.</p>
  <p>"Berwald's up already?" Timo teased, as he stumbled unsteadily into the kitchen, Magnus hot on his heels, and his smile was wide.</p>
  <p>Berwald sent Timo a look, and didn't say a word. As Timo smiled at him, Berwald made a point of turning around and returning his attention to Ludwig. Who cared? Timo's smile didn't put him in a better mood. He found his interest in Timo steadily crashing down into dust.</p>
  <p>"What happened to <em>you</em>?" Timo suddenly rasped, as soon as he caught sight of the bruise forming below Ludwig's eye, and Berwald reached up his hand to rub at his forehead in embarrassment. How humiliating.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stood there for a second, and then he said, quite seriously, "Berwald whacked me one 'cause I woke him up too early."</p>
  <p>Oh, god.</p>
  <p>Timo and Magnus stared at him, Magnus' mouth hanging open and Timo's eyes quite wide. A silence. Berwald could have <em>died</em>. Absolute mortification.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked back and forth at them, and then snipped, "That was a joke."</p>
  <p>Timo just lifted his chin and gave a quick, "Hm!"</p>
  <p>As if Timo weren't really convinced. Granted, Berwald's aggression towards Magnus for so long may not have painted him in the best light, but he had never once lashed out at any of them. In fact, if anyone there was likely to punch a comrade, it was certainly Timo, so who the hell was <em>he</em> to look so surprised?</p>
  <p>Agitated and a little wounded, Berwald snapped at them, "Why don't you make yourselves useful and start rippin' down some of those vines on the house while you wait, huh?"</p>
  <p>It had been a long time since his voice had been so harsh.</p>
  <p>Timo scoffed, looked angry for a moment, and then just griped, "Sure thing!"</p>
  <p>When he and Magnus turned to leave, Berwald could hear Timo muttering under his breath.</p>
  <p>Jerks.</p>
  <p>Everything was quiet then, as Berwald finished rinsing off the bowls and tossed them down upon the counter in a huff. When he glanced up, Ludwig was looking at him with a high brow and a ghost of a smile.</p>
  <p>"Well," Ludwig said, as soon as the door had shut, "You've really got them all under your boot, don't ya?"</p>
  <p>Yeah, sure. They were <em>scared </em>of him, when it really came down to it, one way or another. He didn't even know why. He didn't understand. They didn't listen to him when they didn't feel like it, but when it came down to the wire, they always backed from Berwald when he was angry.</p>
  <p>"It wasn't really my plan," he muttered back, as Ludwig wrung his hands dry on a cloth. "Guess I scare 'em."</p>
  <p>"Ha."</p>
  <p>Ludwig's bark of laughter surprised him a little. He had expected Ludwig to say, 'Well, you <em>are</em> a little scary.' Instead, Ludwig looked over at him, and gave him a very scrutinizing once-over.</p>
  <p>"I'll have you know," he drawled, as he walked over towards the threshold of the kitchen, "It'll take a little more than you just bein' tall, dark and handsome to scare <em>me</em>. Now, I'm gonna go make sure that they're doing whatever you told them to. I think I can be scary, too. Watch the food."</p>
  <p>With that, he straightened his hair in a flourish, and was gone.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, making light of their wariness of him. Stoic, awkward Ludwig's way of saying, 'What's there to be scared of?'</p>
  <p>Well, well.</p>
  <p>...handsome, huh?</p>
  <p>That made him reach up and pull at his collar in self-satisfaction.</p>
  <p>He recalled his first thought from earlier. Waking up by hitting a friend. Friend. A strange word, after so many years alone, and yet that was really the only way he could come up with now of describing Ludwig when he thought about him. A friend.</p>
  <p>As he watched Ludwig wander off outside to fuss at the others, he tucked his hands in his pockets, leaned back against the counter, and he almost smiled as the door shut.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was his friend. How strange. He was glad that at least Ludwig <em>cared</em> about him. Sometimes, it felt like Ludwig was the only one that did. Lukas had been right; maybe it was fate. Because with every passing day, he was more and more grateful that Ludwig had wound up here with them. He could barely imagine now what it would have been like without him.</p>
  <p><em>His</em> friend.</p>
  <p>The food burning on the stove behind him didn't even catch his attention, as he stared at the door long after Ludwig had gone outside.</p>
  <p>No one had ever called him handsome.</p>
  <p>Best to enjoy it while he could. Eduard would come calling soon.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Cry! Cry! Cry!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 11 </strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Cry! Cry! Cry! </strong>
  </p>
  <p>He had known all along that he had been putting himself into danger by coming with then.</p>
  <p>Always had.</p>
  <p>Still, maybe Ludwig had been naïve to think it wasn't going to happen so <em>soon</em>.</p>
  <p>Estonia was nothing like Sweden. No more nights of sitting up and drinking as they shared stories. No more leisurely moments of relaxation. No more wandering around town with Magnus. No more flowers. And no more practice; suddenly, when the rifle was in his hands, it wasn't fun anymore, because now he was expected to use it, and if he missed this time, then it was not a glass he was leaving forlorn.</p>
  <p>He was leaving one of his friends, a brother, hanging out to dry.</p>
  <p>There was still a group sitting around cleaning guns, alright, but not the same ones. Timo's friends, men he didn't know, often joined them, sitting there and smiling as if they were just going about another normal day.</p>
  <p>It had been snowing here lately.</p>
  <p>They had only been here for three days before they had gone out for the first time. Out. Sounded easy enough. And, at least in theory, maybe it was. Timo's friends moved supplies and equipment through the forests, and they were expected to make sure the path was clear, both ahead and behind.</p>
  <p>Not too hard.</p>
  <p>It had been rather nauseating, the first time, pulling on those white boots and that bulking white coat, shoving his rifle into a white fur sling, and making sure that nothing on him would stand out. Even his shoelaces were white. White gloves. Timo and Magnus and Timo's friend, whatever his name was, took turns passing around a jar full of white pigment and spreading it under their eyes to shield off the bright glare of snow. Lukas was quite happy to smear it under Ludwig's eyes the second he had a chance to.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't use it.</p>
  <p>The smell of it was deceptively pleasant; chalky.</p>
  <p>He felt out of place. Agitated.</p>
  <p>White. Everything was white.</p>
  <p>Magnus, whose hair was perhaps the darkest blond amongst them, pinned it up well and away under the hood of his coat.</p>
  <p>Wool masks, white, were promptly used to cover faces up to the bridges of their noses. They'd meld into the white of the forest, sure enough, and no one would know they were there until it was too late.</p>
  <p>The group they escorted was a little bigger than Ludwig had imagined. A good fifty of them were moving about that day, and it had suddenly become an enormous pressure, to know that these men had entrusted their lives into his hands.</p>
  <p>If the others were nervous, they gave away nothing. Magnus looked a bit anxious, perhaps.</p>
  <p>Timo was the one who took charge here, knowing these men and these forests better than anyone else, and Ludwig wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't disappointed with the way Timo had split them up.</p>
  <p>He had wanted to go with Berwald. His first thought, but Berwald was more experienced, and when there were two snipers, it made sense to have one in the back and one in the front. A regrettable circumstance, but one he accepted.</p>
  <p>Berwald went alone. Timo and Magnus took the middle. He and Lukas in the back.</p>
  <p>He wanted to go with Berwald.</p>
  <p>Berwald being alone in the front, with no backup, was a source of constant concern.</p>
  <p>Everything, come to think, was a great concern; Berwald being alone out ahead, the fact that Magnus couldn't shoot, Timo's sometimes reckless aggressiveness towards the Reds, the grenades that were tucked inside of Lukas' coat in a neat line, his own inexperience. The fact that he was the very last, and therefore the most likely to get mixed up and lost within the endless trees.</p>
  <p>The fear of choking.</p>
  <p>The first time had been the worst.</p>
  <p>As they had prepared to go, so <em>many </em>white figures, Berwald stopped beside of him, and put a hand on his shoulder. They all looked alike, but he knew it was Berwald, as much as Berwald had known to whom he was speaking.</p>
  <p>A low whisper.</p>
  <p>'That's a good gun—I wouldn't let ya go out with it if it wa'n't.'</p>
  <p>He had only looked up at Berwald, their eyes meeting beyond the white masks, and had said, 'I know.'</p>
  <p>He trusted Berwald.</p>
  <p>The group had gathered up their supplies on the outskirts of town, grabbing crates and poles painted white, filed into line, and started moving after Berwald had tread off a good ways.</p>
  <p>The forest stood tall and imposing. Every creeping inch towards it had seemed like an eternity.</p>
  <p>He waited, after everyone else had gone in, and when he could no longer see them with his bare eyes, he stepped into the trees, and followed. Some part of him wanted to turn tail and run in the opposite direction, but he pushed onward, keeping his chin up and his hands still and his eyes alert, because they had trusted him.</p>
  <p>Berwald was inside these trees, far more alone than he was, creeping into uncharted territory without fear. He'd follow, wherever Berwald took him. No matter how damn scary it was.</p>
  <p>The snow and twigs had creaked beneath his feet. He put his scope up, found Lukas ahead of him, and began the journey.</p>
  <p>Keeping the flank was almost as bad as it must have been keeping the front, knowing that it was his job to make sure no one, no one, snuck up on them. More frightening, perhaps, because instead of leading it was necessary to make sure that he didn't stray so far behind that he found himself alone and lost. He knew that Lukas checked quite often to make sure that he hadn't been left too far behind.</p>
  <p>A comfort, he supposed.</p>
  <p>The first time was the worst, although it had been the most uneventful.</p>
  <p>It wasn't until the third time moving these men through the forests that they had encountered Red Army soldiers lurking in the brush.</p>
  <p>The first time the gunfire had broken out in the forest, Ludwig had jumped so terribly that he had nearly fumbled the rifle straight to the ground, and it was like <em>that </em>night all over again. Helplessness. It took him a moment to realize that he was in a forest, not in a street, and <em>that </em>night had long since passed. This gunfire was for freedom, not fear.</p>
  <p>He came back, quickly, and carried on without a second thought.</p>
  <p>The only thing that frightened him in here was the thought of Berwald getting hurt.</p>
  <p>He could distinguish the quick, frequent bursts of Magnus' gun from the slow, powerful blasts of Berwald's rifle.</p>
  <p>He'd gunned down two men that day. The first time he'd killed someone since then. A terrible feeling, even though these men were enemies. To see them so clearly in the scope before he shot them was no pleasant thing, knowing that these men were following orders, just as he had been expected to. Knowing that they had families waiting back at home.</p>
  <p>Knowing that every time he fired his rifle, somewhere out there a house became a little emptier.</p>
  <p>Best not to think about it too much.</p>
  <p>When they cleared the forest and made it to the other side, it was always with relief.</p>
  <p>The journey back was made through towns, not the forest, and they stripped down their white gear, cleaned their faces of the talc, and hitched a ride back with Timo's friends. The trunks had removable panels, where everything was hidden safely underneath, just in case they came across a military check or a roadblock.</p>
  <p>The next time, the cycle continued.</p>
  <p>Whatever these men did on the other side of the forest, whatever they were up to, it obviously wasn't a secret to the Soviets. They never used the same path twice. Same thing, different way. That was all.</p>
  <p>They'd been here for a month already, and Ludwig had already had his fill of this place. He wanted to go back to the little house in the mountains.</p>
  <p>Berwald had been quieter than usual since they had gotten here. Looked stressed. Tired. Ludwig tried to engage him from time to time, when the others were trying to be normal, but sometimes even he didn't feel much like trying.</p>
  <p>Usually, Berwald just looked at him, eyes heavy, and didn't say a word. They sat together, side by side, listening to Timo and Magnus messing around the house, and sometimes Ludwig wished that he could just throw an arm out and put it around Berwald's shoulders. If only to let him know that he had a friend. Someone who would miss him if something happened.</p>
  <p>One night, Berwald spoke to him, and said, drearily, 'I almost got lost. If I had—I'd'a left them there, with no cover up front. I woulda let 'em down. I'd've been out there alone.'</p>
  <p>Berwald getting lost in that massive forest was <em>terrifying </em>to him.</p>
  <p>'Well, you didn't,' Ludwig finally said, 'So no harm.'</p>
  <p>Berwald had seemed shaken all the same.</p>
  <p>'We wouldn't have left you, if you had gotten lost, you know. We... <em>I </em>woulda looked for you. No matter how long it took. I couldn't ever leave, knowing you were in there all alone.'</p>
  <p>Berwald looked over at him, still so sad, and only gave a scoff.</p>
  <p>'Thanks, I guess. Ha...how many did <em>you </em>kill today?'</p>
  <p>Ludwig, voice suddenly just as dreary as Berwald's, replied, 'Four. You?'</p>
  <p>'Five.'</p>
  <p>It was a rather morbid tally, but one they kept all the same. Although it would have been nice to forget, it was somehow still important to keep track of how many men they killed, perhaps to know afterwards just how much recompense they would have to make. If the tally of men they saved could be greater than those they killed, if it could be worth it, somehow...</p>
  <p>Never felt worth it. At least not to him.</p>
  <p>Timo and Lukas really seemed to be the only ones who were convinced they were actually accomplishing something. Berwald looked uncertain at times, but never faltered. Magnus just looked <em>sick </em>all the time.</p>
  <p>Had to be worth it.</p>
  <p>So, Ludwig had just turned to Berwald, and said, 'Well, I guess there's not much of a choice.'</p>
  <p>Berwald hadn't responded, not verbally, but Ludwig had realized afterwards that Berwald had closed the distance between them and was pressing up against his side.</p>
  <p>Everyone needed a little comfort sometimes, whether they could say it or not. Lukas often pressed himself into Ludwig's side these days, more than he had before, and Timo and Magnus were practically arm-in-arm every second they were together. Ludwig sought out Berwald, and Berwald never walked away when it was apparent someone would pay him attention.</p>
  <p>Reassurance.</p>
  <p>If he had been braver, Ludwig might have reached up and wiped Berwald's disheveled bangs out of his eyes.</p>
  <p>He didn't.</p>
  <p>Although he knew that every day was a risk, that every time they went out was a time one of them might not come back, he couldn't bring himself to act upon any of the thoughts that crossed his mind. He wasn't bold enough. Some of the things that crossed his mind, granted, might not have been exactly considered appropriate, although he wouldn't deny that they were there all the same.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, Berwald was so hard to read.</p>
  <p>Maybe...</p>
  <p>It might not have been the way that Ludwig was interpreting it. God, that thought was worse than any other, that this thing he had built up in his head was not really what was happening. Misreading, as he was prone to.</p>
  <p>It had all started the moment that Berwald had extended his hand in kindness, and engaged him that night, when the others had taken instead to teasing him. No one had ever truly been nice to <em>him</em>, not to him, not unless they were being nice to Gilbert. It had been an innocent gesture, surely, and Ludwig hadn't really thought more about it.</p>
  <p>But then Berwald had started hovering over him, had started paying attention to every little thing he did, had made a point to interact with him above all others, had taken such an <em>interest </em>in him. Berwald had been there, every time he had turned around.</p>
  <p>He had started thinking.</p>
  <p>Well, he had little knowledge of such things, but he had watched Gilbert going after girl after girl, and always, it had been the same pattern.</p>
  <p>First, brash Gilbert had diluted his personality, actually sparing kind words that he never used otherwise. Then, he would start to bring the girl home, paying her every attention that she could have ever wanted, no matter whether or not it was excessive. Afterwards, Gilbert would bring her around even more, and would hang around her every second, always so interested in everything she said, and Ludwig would wait to see if it worked out. When it didn't, the cycle repeated itself.</p>
  <p>And, well...</p>
  <p>It might have been a coincidence, might have been a cultural difference, hell, he might have just been imagining things, but it <em>felt </em>the same. The way Berwald acted had reminded him of the way Gilbert had acted. Was he making such a mental stretch?</p>
  <p>That night they had gotten him drunk and tried to pry information out of him, he had been mortified all right, but not because he had a girl waiting back home—he had been mortified because he couldn't very well have said, 'I don't have a girl waiting because I was just never that interested in them.'</p>
  <p>Not to men he didn't know well.</p>
  <p>And Christ almighty, <em>never</em> would he have said such a thing to Gilbert, not with Gilbert's SS friends running around. He'd've wound up in a fuckin' camp somewhere with one of those pink triangles branded on his chest.</p>
  <p>A horrifying thought.</p>
  <p>But Berwald hadn't really seemed all that interested in women, either, did he, and Magnus had proclaimed so confidently that Berwald was a bachelor for life. Maybe. Coulda been that Berwald was the same as him. If so, was it really just in his head?</p>
  <p>He had always thought that Berwald was handsome, that had never been a question in his mind, but it was much harder to figure out if Berwald's interests were extended in such a way to himself. They looked at each other frequently. Berwald came to him before anyone else. He was the one whose shoulder Berwald placed his hand upon. Hadn't seen him do that with anyone else.</p>
  <p>It couldn't have been in his head.</p>
  <p>Could it?</p>
  <p>It could have just been hope. It could have been his lack of knowledge of human relationships. Could have been wishful thinking on his part. Maybe he had gotten himself so <em>stuck </em>on Berwald that he was connecting dots in his head that just weren't there.</p>
  <p>The way his chest burned and his stomach squirmed were so strong that it was likely he just wanted Berwald to feel the same way to keep his pride, and because his hair-trigger emotions might not have handled rejection well.</p>
  <p>Gilbert had always wondered why Ludwig hadn't fallen in love with anyone, because the teenage years were supposed to be the ones where you fell hard and fast and without reason. Ludwig had assumed that just wouldn't happen to him, nearing on twenty now and having yet to be struck down by that odd affliction Gilbert had called 'love'.</p>
  <p>If this was it, it was hard and fast, alright, and every bit as irrational as Gilbert had made it out to be.</p>
  <p>He kept it to himself, and tried not to make it obvious.</p>
  <p>If he was wrong, oh god, there would have been no getting over that humiliation. No regaining his pride. He would have ditched them that very day, affection and brotherhood be damned, if Berwald had laughed at him. If he had extended his hand to Berwald, only to have it slapped away with a look of disdain, he would have packed his things, left the rifle lying on the couch, and he would have 'borrowed' his own boat and rowed all the way back to Gotland, stolen one of the cars, and disappeared into the mountains of Sweden. He couldn't ever look at them again, not with that shame over his head.</p>
  <p>Better to keep it a secret, and just stare from afar. No matter how badly he wanted to touch.</p>
  <p>Those kinds of thoughts were ones he did not have the courage for, and so, when Berwald leaned up against him, he kept his arms still, and just enjoyed the warmth.</p>
  <p>He had to be sure, absolutely sure, before he lifted his hand.</p>
  <p>Frustration.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Days came and went, and so did men.</p>
  <p>Falling.</p>
  <p>The snows came and went as much as men did. Some days they dressed all in white. Other days, when the snow had melted, they dressed in brown, and it was mud they smeared beneath their eyes.</p>
  <p>It had been a long, arduous day in the forest, this time wearing dark colors, and they had emerged from the other side with less bullets than they had started with.</p>
  <p>That night, the tone was dreary. Nobody was in a good mood. Nobody seemed able to raise their eyes up from the floor. Even Lukas, unshakeable Lukas, seemed a bit silent and dour.</p>
  <p>They had a talk that night, after drinking had gotten well under way. The conversation hadn't been one that Ludwig had wanted to hear.</p>
  <p>Wind, beating on the windows.</p>
  <p>Timo was drinking hard, and it was no wonder why when he opened his mouth to speak.</p>
  <p>"Lost three of 'em today. Damn—I had one of 'em right there, right there, and I still lost him. Fuckin' bullet had the whole damn forest and still found him."</p>
  <p>Not the first time they had lost any, but it didn't make it any easier to handle. To let someone down. Another empty house.</p>
  <p>Ludwig and Lukas had lost four so far. Berwald, three. Timo and Magnus, stuck in the middle, bore most of the brunt and had less of a field of vision, and had taken no less than ten hits.</p>
  <p>Not significant numbers for an army, but devastating ones for this little group.</p>
  <p>The more men fell, the more it hit home that any one of them could become just another number in a matter of time.</p>
  <p>It was that night, when Timo was trying very hard to drink himself into a stupor, that the conversation finally took place. They must have been thinking it for a while, but had never brought it up before, because, hell, who would ever <em>want</em> to? Who wanted to say such things?</p>
  <p>"We should talk about it," Lukas said, out of nowhere, and everyone had turned to look at him, dreary and mellow.</p>
  <p>"Talk about what?" Ludwig asked, although he probably shouldn't have.</p>
  <p>It was usually Timo who was forced to explain things, but this time Timo just couldn't seem to find his voice.</p>
  <p>Instead, Lukas finally leaned forward, and whispered, "What would you like us to do, Ludwig, if it happens?"</p>
  <p>It took him a moment to figure it out, and he sat there, silently, trying to understand.</p>
  <p>Lukas made it easier by adding, "Almost everyone wants to be cremated these days. A lot easier, in a way, and then we can just take you off wherever you want."</p>
  <p>"Oh."</p>
  <p><em>Oh</em>...</p>
  <p>How strange, and perhaps a bit cruel, that such a proposition was completely normal. He had tried not to think about it much.</p>
  <p>Hurt.</p>
  <p>He wanted to go home. Always had. He and Gilbert had always promised that they'd do everything together, including finding themselves side by side in a cemetery. That wasn't possible anymore. His gravestone would be defaced if Gilbert survived the war and ever found out.</p>
  <p>Instead of answering outright, he turned to Magnus, so quiet all day, and asked, "What do you want?"</p>
  <p>Magnus, who avoided thinking about these things, too.</p>
  <p>Barely having the strength to look up, Magnus gave a weak snort, and grumbled, "Dunno. Never thought about it. I guess, I mean, it's easier to cart around a buncha ashes, to take ya wherever... I always liked the ocean."</p>
  <p>"Me too," Lukas added, easily.</p>
  <p>Like it was nothing.</p>
  <p>Timo was still.</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned his eyes briefly to Berwald, who had suddenly found his shoes extremely interesting. Ludwig didn't have the heart to ask him; for his own sake, rather than Berwald's.</p>
  <p>"Well?" Lukas prodded, after he had been silent for a time.</p>
  <p>What could he say?</p>
  <p>"It doesn't matter. You couldn't get me there, anyway."</p>
  <p>Berwald glanced up, then, and opened his mouth. Ludwig was rather surprised at the tone of his voice when he said, sternly, "Just say it. We'll make it happen."</p>
  <p>That place.</p>
  <p>Tall trees. Shadows. Strange scents and stranger sounds, invisible currents of cool air, a blanket of leaves and earth. Dusty light streaming in through breaks in the foliage. The most beautiful place he had ever seen.</p>
  <p>Turning his eyes to the window, he finally said, quietly, "The black forest."</p>
  <p>They wouldn't ever be able to get him there, at least not until the war ended, and maybe even not afterwards, depending on how it all turned out. Hell, maybe none of them would even be around to do it by the time it all came to halt. Maybe they'd all be gone.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>They fell silent, as the urge to talk diminished, and Ludwig regretted that he hadn't made more use of the time he had had with Gilbert.</p>
  <p>Heavy air.</p>
  <p>"Well," Timo finally said, laughing a bit dryly, "Hell, who wants to get old, anyway, right?"</p>
  <p>A short silence, and then Magnus took up the bottle again.</p>
  <p>"I'll drink to that."</p>
  <p>Ludwig stared ahead at the wall, and wished, more than anything, that he had kissed Gilbert back, that day. That he had been able to say those three simple words, just once.</p>
  <p>'I love you.'</p>
  <p>Had Gilbert already taken his military leave, to mourn his little brother, dead on the train? Proud Gilbert, standing over an empty grave, slouched and bleary-eyed, wondering why their luck had run out. Why them. He should have told Gilbert that he loved him, no matter what, however many mistakes he had made. He would <em>always</em> love Gilbert.</p>
  <p>Too late.</p>
  <p>Berwald's eyes seemed to stay put on him for the rest of the night, but he didn't have the will to even look over. After a while, Berwald trudged away, and Ludwig wasn't really sure why he was so agitated. Everyone died. Sooner or later.</p>
  <p>He took the couch that night.</p>
  <p>Rather be alone.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>The forests out here were enormous.</p>
  <p>The shortest routes through it were still no less than a grueling fifteen hours.</p>
  <p>Most of the time, it seemed, Ludwig used his scope to make sure that he could still see Lukas ahead of him, to make sure that he hadn't gotten himself lost. Getting lost out here might not have been a death sentence on its own, not if you could hold out a few days to reach the other side, but running into a Red might be, especially in a panic.</p>
  <p>Alone.</p>
  <p>The day had started like any other.</p>
  <p>The forest was white again. Had been for a week now. Weather in the spring months here was exceedingly unpredictable. Everything else was normal. Almost, anyway—Berwald had looked a little ill in the morning, and the odd flush of red on his cheeks had been visible before the white mask had been pulled over the bridge of his nose. Feverish, perhaps.</p>
  <p>They should have called the whole thing off for that day, and waited for Berwald to ward off the start of sickness. Dangerous, to go out with any sort of distractions, or if focus was an issue, but Berwald popped some aspirin, insisted he was alright, and they set out anyway.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wished they hadn't. Not if Berwald was at greater risk than usual.</p>
  <p>New day, new trail. The most frightening thing about the forest, perhaps, was that every time into it was a completely new experience. New trees. New twisting paths. New obstacles.</p>
  <p>Timo seemed to know these forests fairly well, although whether he had been in this exact one before was a subject up for debate. Maybe he had a good sense of direction. Timo plotted out the routes with his friend, and Berwald used a compass and a little luck to follow them. Everyone else just tagged along for the ride.</p>
  <p>They rested, every so often, when the wooden crates were too heavy to carry any longer, and in those moments, they huddled down in the snow, and Lukas and Ludwig had a moment to collaborate as they kept watch. Still couldn't see Timo or Magnus, so far ahead. Berwald was far out of sight. Was he feeling alright?</p>
  <p>Ludwig worried.</p>
  <p>White blurs on the horizon.</p>
  <p>A half hour of tentative rest, the men picked up their things, and they carried on. Birds fluttered above head.</p>
  <p>Ten hours.</p>
  <p>Lukas jumped across a sloshing creek ahead, right behind the last of the trailing men, and Ludwig checked every inch of the bank before he followed. So far, so good. No excitement today. The same routine; walk a half mile, stop, turn around, make sure no one was behind. Another half mile, stop, turn around, double check.</p>
  <p>Ahead, Lukas used his ears more than his eyes, having a much shorter sight, and he tilted his head towards every shuffle or shift in the trees. Ludwig didn't bother; he wasn't skilled in that area like Lukas was, and whenever he heard a rustle, he wound up twisting around in a rush of adrenaline only to find a hapless deer in the crosshairs.</p>
  <p>Lukas seemed to be able to tell the difference between fauna and soldiers, just by the sound. Whatever worked for him. Long as he didn't pull out any of those damn grenades.</p>
  <p>Eleven hours.</p>
  <p>A twist in the path. Winding, evasive routes. Often, they came across long trails of footsteps, and it was a mystery as to whether it was their own, from days past, or Soviet soldiers trailing after them. Who could say. Each route seemed to overlap an older one at some point. Timo's friend was clever, certainly, and Timo's fearlessness no doubt made them all the bolder. Their luck would run out one day, when the Soviets finally grew tired of these little games and decided just to raze the whole damn forest.</p>
  <p>How many more times would they pull this off without being ambushed?</p>
  <p>Twelve hours.</p>
  <p>An explosion ahead rocked the stillness of the forest. Gunshot. One slow, powerful blast. Sniper rifle.</p>
  <p>Lukas fell still and crouched, just in case, and Ludwig raised the scope to his eye, even as his heart started hammering.</p>
  <p>That had been Berwald, certainly.</p>
  <p>How bad was it ahead? Berwald was sick. What if he had missed? What if he failed to see something because his head hurt and his vision was blurry? The thought of Berwald getting <em>killed</em>—</p>
  <p>"See anything?"</p>
  <p>Lukas' soft voice cut over the drifting snow, and Ludwig, after a full circle around them, took a step forward. Lukas took it as an all-clear, and crept onward. They didn't stop, no matter how many people were shooting around them. Ahead, the men just kept on walking, and so did Lukas. Stopping could be as dangerous as walking.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried to keep focused.</p>
  <p>Soldiers were always lurking in here, it seemed. What if one of them had seen Berwald before Berwald had seen him? Hardly a fathomable thought, as much as Gilbert getting hurt had been. Naïve, to think that they would never come to harm.</p>
  <p>Lukas was close ahead, all of a sudden, and it didn't take Ludwig long to realize why he had fallen to stop when he suddenly dropped back down onto his knee.</p>
  <p>A jerk of a hand towards their left.</p>
  <p>Ludwig swung the rifle around, and could see the shifting and rustling of a Red, barely visible behind the brush on the hill. A shadow, white against white, and the vague outline of a coat. A glint of light reflecting off of a gun. Lukas had spotted the flash of it. He readied his finger. The soldier was in his sights.</p>
  <p>More gunshots from ahead; Magnus' fast gun, going off suddenly.</p>
  <p>Berwald being sick, <em>that </em>conversation, thinking about those things, that image of them creeping into the black forest and tossin' around a bunch of ashes, the chest-clenching notion of ever having to scatter Berwald's ashes somewhere just because of one little mistake, sitting together and drinking one night and there being an empty seat...</p>
  <p>He fired.</p>
  <p>A shift of snow.</p>
  <p>And he missed.</p>
  <p>"<em>Shit</em>!"</p>
  <p>He missed. He had fuckin' missed. Keepin' his mind too much on whether or not Berwald was alright—</p>
  <p>Lukas reached out, gripped his sleeve, and hissed, "Forget it! Leave him! Look, look, they're runnin'—we gotta go."</p>
  <p>Ludwig shook him off, and, after a split-second of irritable glaring, he pulled the scope back up and aimed again. Let the men run. His job was the flank. He was so intent on getting his target that he didn't even hear Lukas' soft footsteps retreating into the snow, didn't even stop to think that maybe Lukas had assumed that Ludwig was following him.</p>
  <p>The scampering Soviet below had tried to take cover behind the ingrown brush beneath a tree, but Ludwig had spotted him shifting around.</p>
  <p>He didn't miss. He didn't. Berwald expected perfection. A missed soldier was a dead brother.</p>
  <p>He fired again.</p>
  <p>A second of stillness, a glimpse of red against the snow, and the soldier moved no more. A movement from the other side. Another soldier, lying in wait. He set the sights, focused his attention, waited for the moment, and gunned the second one down faster than he had the first.</p>
  <p>A long sweep around. No more shadows. Clear.</p>
  <p>Satisfied, and feeling a little <em>vindicated</em>, he lowered the rifle, hair bristling, and turned back around, whispering eagerly, "Got 'em, let's get the hell—"</p>
  <p>He stopped short, and his heart lurched hard enough to make him sick.</p>
  <p>Snow. Trees. Stillness.</p>
  <p>Lukas was gone.</p>
  <p>His rifle flew back up again, scope positioned, but this time he used it to scan the trees for friends rather than enemies, and Christ, it was a terrible feeling that crawled into his stomach as he looked this way and that, trying to see movement from any side.</p>
  <p>Couldn't see <em>anything</em>.</p>
  <p>Panic.</p>
  <p>No matter how many times he swung the scope back and forth, there was nothing discernable, no sign of Lukas, no movement aside from the branches in the wind, no life at all. Nothing. The white attire that kept him hidden was doing the same for Lukas.</p>
  <p>He looked down.</p>
  <p>Footsteps.</p>
  <p>The snow still held the footsteps, but <em>everyone's</em> footsteps, Soviet ones too, and everywhere he looked around there were footsteps. So many men, so many soldiers, wandering through at different times. No way to tell them apart. All looked the same. No help there.</p>
  <p>Where was he? He'd gotten mixed up when the gunfire had started.</p>
  <p>East—the soldiers had been coming from the east. Or had that been south? The route they had taken twisted so often that there was no telling what direction they had been going, and whether or not they had intended to keep going that way. Unlikely, as often as they turned. If he couldn't follow them, better to go straight, and head for the edge of the forest. Find them there. Get back to the town. No sense in trying to follow a trail of footsteps that might take him into enemy territory. They had run for a reason, and he didn't want to run <em>into</em> it.</p>
  <p>For a moment, he just stood there, rifle low in his hands, and he felt helpless. Stupid.</p>
  <p>...oh, he should have obeyed Lukas' call for retreat. He shouldn't have let his damn pride override his logic.</p>
  <p>Pride.</p>
  <p>He had chided Gilbert for so many years for being so goddamn proud, but he was hardly any better. Trying to impress others and himself was going to get him killed one day, he had said to Gilbert. Those words were painfully true, now, and directed at Ludwig himself.</p>
  <p>Finally, he lifted his foot and started moving.</p>
  <p>He wandered silently through the white forests, keeping himself low and slow for fear of being seen by unfriendly eyes, and it did cross his mind that his stealth would be detrimental for the others should they have come back looking for him. Not much of a choice there. He was on his own now, and he'd have to find his own damn way out of these vast woods. He couldn't risk exposure, not for anyone.</p>
  <p>He kept the scope of the rifle out of the white sun as he walked, to be certain it wouldn't reflect any light.</p>
  <p>Hours.</p>
  <p>No doubt the others had cleared the forest by now. Out in the air.</p>
  <p>He was stuck.</p>
  <p>Every sound, every twitch, had him running for cover and pulling the rifle out from under his coat. In the end, he found nothing, and had to gather his nerve and start walking again.</p>
  <p>The others. Were they looking for him now? He had meant it, when he had told Berwald that he would have looked for <em>him</em>. <em>Oh</em>, he hoped they were looking for him, and at the same time he hoped they <em>weren't</em>. He was already walking his path, and he'd find the way out eventually. The thought of them putting themselves in needless danger was more horrifying than being lost.</p>
  <p>If he stayed calm and focused, he would make it out of here.</p>
  <p>As long as he didn't cross paths with another sniper.</p>
  <p>He would have looked for Berwald, even knowing that Berwald would do exactly as he was doing now, knowing that with a clear head Berwald would make it out alright by himself. He still would have looked, because knowing that Berwald was on his own would have driven him crazy if he hadn't. All the same, he hoped Berwald was sitting in the house, and being patient. He'd rather the poor ol' guy just sat and stared out the window, instead of putting himself in the line of fire by trying to track down a lost friend.</p>
  <p>Berwald needed to wait. Magnus and Lukas needed to be patient. Timo needed to keep his restless feet still.</p>
  <p>He'd find his way out.</p>
  <p>The sun lowered, steadily, and a cloudy day became a clear, freezing night. He huddled under thick underbrush, knees to his chest, and was grateful for the white coat. Hours of uneasy sleep, as every shift of branches and snow jolted him awake in panic, and he was glad when the dawn broke and light shed back in through the trees.</p>
  <p>Ignoring a pang of hunger, he pulled himself up and carried on.</p>
  <p>His mind wandered as much as his feet.</p>
  <p>Had the others made it out alright yesterday? Was Berwald really back in the house, or was he lying in this forest somewhere, too? Magnus' gun going off like crazy. Had his bad aim cost him? Had Lukas caught up to the others, or had his light feet caught the attention of a soldier that Ludwig had not been around to take out? Timo hated the Reds so much that he acted recklessly. Had he gone after one and been blindsided by another?</p>
  <p>His head hurt.</p>
  <p>Walking, walking, walking.</p>
  <p>No matter how many hours he crept along, the end didn't seem to be in sight. He had gotten himself mixed up, no doubt, and was walking parallel with the long edge of the forest rather than the shorter. An extended journey, but it was too late now to change direction. Eventually, the forest would end. No woods on earth just went on forever.</p>
  <p>...sure as hell felt like this one did, though.</p>
  <p>Alone and in a precarious situation, every minute seemed like an eternity.</p>
  <p>The second day was well on when he came across the first unwelcome sight.</p>
  <p>The smell of it hit him long before the sight did. A foul odor wafting in from afar, even with the mask over his nose, and somehow he knew right off what it was. All the same, he sought it out, because there might have been something worthwhile there.</p>
  <p>His bullet supply was fairly low.</p>
  <p>The odor grew ever stronger as he wound in and out between the trees, and it didn't take too long to find it. Half-buried with snow, mottled and grey and bloated, lied a Soviet soldier. The uniform, what was left of it, was clearly recognizable. White bone poked out here and there, gleaming in the pale sunlight. Wildlife had picked off quite a bit. Who knew how long it—had been a <em>he</em>, once—had been out here.</p>
  <p>For a moment, struck in place by the stench and by the <em>idea</em>, Ludwig faltered.</p>
  <p>Dead bodies in the forest.</p>
  <p>Had any of his brothers joined them yesterday? Couldn't think about. Couldn't stand to.</p>
  <p>Not Berwald.</p>
  <p>Lifting his foot, he started moving. Oh, fuckin Christ, that <em>smell</em>—</p>
  <p>He crept forward, keeping his hand over his mouth and nose and his eyes well alert, and when he was close enough, he crouched and patted the corpse down. Nothing very useful. Whoever had killed him had already stripped him clean. All he got was a busted compass and a few coins.</p>
  <p>He didn't waste a second in bounding away the moment he was upright again, as his eyes started watering from the rancid scent.</p>
  <p>Walking again.</p>
  <p>The scent faded away the farther he got.</p>
  <p>A few hours later, as the afternoon dragged into evening, it started snowing again.</p>
  <p>He probably could have gotten out by now, if he could walk normally. Speed-walking, jogging, running, anything that was not a creep, would have gotten him killed. He would take his time, and get out alive. Sure did miss Berwald, though. Seeing him again would be welcome. He was gonna sit there on the couch and stare at him all damn night, that was for sure.</p>
  <p>Blue light, as the white sky became grey with the first stir of dusk. Visibility reduced.</p>
  <p>The snow glowed in the remaining daylight, the flakes shimmering as they floated down. Glittering on the ground. The forest turned into a sapphire prism. Flecks of colored light, as icicles and snow changed the woods into a kaleidoscope of ultramarine.</p>
  <p>Lethargy.</p>
  <p>Pretty place. Shame he couldn't have walked here under different circumstances. Dead bodies were hidden under these drifts of beauty.</p>
  <p>Gettin' sleepy. His already slow pace slowed all the more, as exhaustion weighed him down, and he was almost ready to settle down for another night when a twig behind him snapped.</p>
  <p>A footstep from behind. The sound of heavy breathing.</p>
  <p>His wandering mind lit up.</p>
  <p>He whirled around, the survival instinct kicking in like a motor, and he flung his rifle up into the air, finger flying to the trigger and already taking aim even though he didn't know what he was shooting at. His finger contracted.</p>
  <p>A flash of white.</p>
  <p>A hand reached out like lightning, grabbed the barrel of the rifle, and shoved it firmly aside, thwarting his effort at self-defense. He was probably good as dead now—</p>
  <p>Thunder.</p>
  <p>The bullet went off into the trees, and oh, <em>god</em>, oh, was he so fuckin' <em>glad </em>for it, because when the panic faded and his eyes focused and his mind was able to comprehend, he could have either pitched a fit or burst into tears. Maybe both, come to think.</p>
  <p>Not a Red.</p>
  <p>Berwald.</p>
  <p>Standing there in that huge white coat, pale hair covered in snow, cheeks red and lips chapped with cold, glasses moist with condensation, eyes wide and pupils dilated with was certainly everything from fear to relief, his own rifle gripped firmly in one hand and boots splayed in the snow for balance. His other hand clenched the barrel of Ludwig's rifle.</p>
  <p>The most beautiful sight Ludwig had ever laid eyes upon.</p>
  <p>Hadn't thought it was even possible for Berwald to become more breathtaking, and yet here he was, bathed in blue, hair glinting with shades of cobalt in the light.</p>
  <p>Berwald.</p>
  <p>His hood was pushed back, and his mask was down around his neck. Why? What the hell had been going through the big idiot's mind, exposing himself like that? Letting color show through, when there should be none. What had he been thinking? Why hadn't he <em>waited</em>? He should have waited. Stupid. The urge to reach out and slap Berwald across the face and then yank that mask back up where it should be was suddenly overridden with something a thousand times more powerful.</p>
  <p>Horror.</p>
  <p>The gun fell in a second, and so did his heart, as he realized how <em>close </em>he had been to making a godawful mistake. He'd spent so much time worrying about Berwald getting gunned down and he'd nearly been the one to finally do it—</p>
  <p>He felt himself sliding down the bark of the tree behind him, rifle falling lax in between his legs as the adrenaline faded into a dull ache. Too close. Too close. He'd almost shot someone he hadn't wanted to. Again.</p>
  <p>Too close.</p>
  <p>Berwald seemed as taken aback as he did, and just stood there, looking down at him and breathing through his mouth in a fright.</p>
  <p>They stared at each other.</p>
  <p>So many things he wanted to say, seeing Berwald there. So many words. So many sentiments. In the end, when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a weak, "You shouldn't have come back."</p>
  <p>Why had he said that? That hadn't been what he had wanted to say. It was true, yeah, but he had meant to say something else.</p>
  <p>A firm hand gripped his upper arm, and yanked him to his feet. Their eyes met, as Berwald had to give him a good shake to wake him up enough to stand on his own, and he could see the way Berwald's mouth had fallen open as if to speak.</p>
  <p>No voice.</p>
  <p>It was their curse, he supposed, to never be able to say exactly what they wanted to.</p>
  <p>The flush of fever was still evident in Berwald's face; Ludwig liked to think that it was the fever that had convinced him taking off that damn mask was a good idea, because otherwise the recklessness was incomprehensible. So had been sneaking up behind him like that. It had to have been the fever that had clouded Berwald's judgment.</p>
  <p>Or maybe...</p>
  <p>Berwald's wide eyes looked so helpless suddenly, and he finally managed to breathe, lowly, "I had to. I had to. You said you'd'a looked for me. I had to."</p>
  <p>That was different.</p>
  <p>Dumb. Coulda gotten himself killed in here, wandering around like this with that hood hanging back, and Ludwig would've come out from the forest only to realize Berwald had not.</p>
  <p>He woulda died.</p>
  <p>When his feet were steady and the lurching adrenaline released its grip, Ludwig reached up, grabbed Berwald's hood, and pulled it up. Berwald just stood there, and didn't even protest when he forced the mask back up to where it rightfully belonged.</p>
  <p>Ludwig caught his gaze, and shook his head.</p>
  <p>"What were you thinking?"</p>
  <p>Berwald seemed stuck. Strange, as if it had been him, somehow, that had been lost.</p>
  <p>His answer was low and clumsy. "So you'd see me, if you were lookin'."</p>
  <p>So stupid. Someone else could have seen him first.</p>
  <p>Berwald's hand still had a vice-grip upon his upper arm, and it became clear a few minutes later that he had absolutely no intention of letting go. Ludwig had no choice but to let Berwald drag him along as he would.</p>
  <p>Night fell. The snow stopped.</p>
  <p>A few hours, at the most, and then the trees thinned. He'd been closer than he had thought. Dumb Berwald had only needed to wait until the morning, and he would have been home-free. Just a few more hours.</p>
  <p>Berwald's hands were shaking.</p>
  <p>Stepping out of the forest, Berwald safely at his side, was one of the best moments of his life. Not the best, maybe; perhaps the most relieving. The house couldn't come soon enough.</p>
  <p>The clouds parted in the sky. Stars above.</p>
  <p>As soon as he knew he was safe, Ludwig's mind shut down in exhaustion, and he remembered Berwald stripping the white gear off and dragging him into a car. The second he sat down, he was out like a light, and didn't wake until Berwald was yanking him out. The sight of that shitty little house was as good as finding heaven. Berwald was so frantic to get back in that he practically kicked down the door, and whoever had been driving the car brought in the guns and coats.</p>
  <p>Warm air. Warmer voices.</p>
  <p>He woke up, jostled from lethargy by the sound of Magnus' loud, shrill voice.</p>
  <p>"Fuckin' son of a bitch, <em>there</em> he is!"</p>
  <p>He was lifted up in the air before he knew what was happening, as Magnus tried hard to squeeze the life right out of him. He was set down, mind whirring, the happiness surging up. A hand falling heavily on his shoulder, so hard that he thought for a minute there that Magnus had gone and dislocated it all over again, and it was such a relief to be back. To see these men safe. To see Magnus standing there, unharmed and looking so happy for once. To see Timo, face falling loose as tension fled, clearly in one piece.</p>
  <p>Lukas wasn't there.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked around, and Magnus just smiled, wearily.</p>
  <p>"He's on his way back. He was lookin' for ya, too."</p>
  <p>Why couldn't they have just waited?</p>
  <p>Before he could ask, they had pushed him down onto the couch, and Timo shoved a glass of vodka into his hands. He didn't waste a second in putting it back. That had been enough stress for the rest of the year. Time to calm down, now. Everyone was alright, himself included.</p>
  <p>Still, he caught Timo's gaze, and said, sternly, "You should have made them wait. I was almost out. I coulda got out alone."</p>
  <p>Timo just smiled, a bit shakily, and responded, "I tried. That's what I said, too. I told 'em you weren't gonna just be sittin' there in the same spot waiting, but, hey. You know how stubborn they are. They do what they want."</p>
  <p>Ludwig shook his head, and Timo tried to lighten the mood by adding, slyly, "Anyway, it's for the best, because Berwald would have knocked us all out if we had tried to drag him back home. He barged right back into the forest after we cleared out and realized somebody was missin'."</p>
  <p>A twinge of warmth in his chest, and somehow a sense of exasperation. Berwald had wandered in those forests as long as <em>he</em> had, as exposed as he had made himself, and sick, no less. Why? The leader wasn't supposed to be impulsive.</p>
  <p>He looked over, but Berwald didn't even seem to hear them anymore. He just stared at Ludwig.</p>
  <p>An hour or two later, around midnight, Lukas came slinking in the door, and he made a beeline for Ludwig the second their eyes met. Hell, Lukas, for a moment there, showed a moment of actual emotion, and the arm that he slung around Ludwig's shoulders was unusually tight.</p>
  <p>A whisper in his ear.</p>
  <p>"I'm sorry. I shoulda looked back."</p>
  <p>Not Lukas' fault. His own, for being proud and stubborn.</p>
  <p>Small talk, as the minutes ticked by. They kept shoving glass after glass into his hands, and it hit him hard after his two day fast. Already tipsy, and yet still the more he drank, the more he thought about it, the more he was certain that he was not the one who needed the alcohol. He wasn't the one in shock. He was already gettin' over it, now that he was sitting here.</p>
  <p>Looking over, a bit blearily, he could see Berwald, and knew that they should have been shoving the vodka down his throat instead.</p>
  <p>Berwald's shot nerves were quite visible, in his clenched jaw, in his bloodshot eyes, in the way he gripped his hands together in his lap, in the way he was so pale he had nearly gone yellow, in the way his shoulders shook with every breath he drew, and he just stared at Ludwig the whole time, as a child might have stared at a pet that he had found again after assuming it lost and gone forever.</p>
  <p>That was the first time he had ever seen Berwald look so <em>sick</em>.</p>
  <p>The others didn't even seem to notice, or if they did, then they didn't seem to care.</p>
  <p>The dawn drew closer.</p>
  <p>Finally, after everyone else had retreated for a few hours of rest, Berwald spoke up.</p>
  <p>A long, hard look, but when Berwald opened his mouth, he didn't scold him, didn't berate him, and he didn't make him feel childish. He didn't say, 'You made a mistake.' He didn't say, 'You put us all in danger.' He didn't say, 'You don't belong here.'</p>
  <p>Just one simple phrase. A strange tone of voice.</p>
  <p>"I—I'm happy that you're okay."</p>
  <p>Just like that, Berwald's stern face fell, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair as if suddenly nervous. Ludwig, inert on the couch and feeling a little out of it for the alcohol, could only stare up at him, and wonder if that was what Berwald had really wanted to say.</p>
  <p>He himself hadn't even said what he had wanted to, had he? When Berwald had hauled him to his feet in that white forest, he had said, 'You shouldn't have come back.' That hadn't been what was supposed to come out.</p>
  <p>So, he called to Berwald, as he turned around, "I'm happy that you wanted to look for me."</p>
  <p>Even if he didn't condone it, he wouldn't deny that the thought had made him <em>happy</em>.</p>
  <p>Berwald turned back, and there were no words in Ludwig's repertoire that could have described that look upon his face, as he said, fervently, "I woulda never left ya there. Never."</p>
  <p>The crackling fire was not enough to drown out what Berwald muttered then, even though his voice threatened to give out on him.</p>
  <p>"I couldn't'a. Not <em>you</em>. You... If I hadn't found you...I woulda gone crazy. You're the only one that even looks at me."</p>
  <p>Ludwig was glad.</p>
  <p>Because he had meant to say, 'I was afraid I wouldn't ever see you again.'</p>
  <p>Berwald crept back, and disappeared into the kitchen, no doubt to fall asleep at the table.</p>
  <p>Ludwig watched him go, and, just like that, it was like someone had set a fire underneath him.</p>
  <p>He'd gotten the scare of his life, that was for sure. From now on, it would be a damn good idea to act on his thoughts, instead of fretting about them. Life was too uncertain out here. Time to be more like Gilbert, and live in the moment.</p>
  <p>Berwald had tracked him down. That must have meant something. It <em>couldn</em>'t have been all in his head.</p>
  <p>Time to find out.</p>
  <p>So that he wouldn't regret, later on, that he hadn't said all he had wanted to.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Timo waltzed around each other quite gracefully, and it was obvious as to <em>why </em>by now, even to him, and if <em>they </em>weren't waiting until the war ended, why should he? He was no dancer, had never even lifted up his foot to try, but suddenly the notion had gone far beyond tempting. If Berwald didn't want to lead, that was fine. He'd take the reigns.</p>
  <p>Music was already starting.</p>
  <p>He wouldn't cry about anything later, if he could at least say he had tried. If it didn't work out how he wanted it to, he wouldn't <em>regret</em>.</p>
  <p>The time for carefulness and subtlety had passed.</p>
  <p>Berwald would be wise to watch his back.</p>
  <p>Staring had gotten old.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The One On the Right Is On the Left</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 12 </strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>The One On the Right Is On the Left</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Things had shifted.</p>
  <p>Roles reversed.</p>
  <p>It was natural, perhaps, that a soldier as young as Ludwig was perfectly capable of bouncing back after a life-threatening situation, as much as a cat could always land on its feet, but maybe it wasn't so natural that Berwald still found himself the one that was hindered by it. Couldn't shake it.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, lost out in the trees.</p>
  <p>The horrendous, helpless feeling of wandering through the forest, looking this way and that and hoping that he would see a flash of something familiar. Lying down in the snow and trying to sleep, only to be kept awake by fear and guilt and anxiety. Glimpsing movement and lifting his rifle in excitement only to see a rabbit bounding through the snow. Feeling <em>dizzy </em>when he came across a motionless figure, having to creep up to it and grip the mask in his hand, taking deep breaths and gathering the courage to finally pull it down.</p>
  <p>The surge of relief, when it was never anyone he knew.</p>
  <p>Not even caring that someone might have been stalking him, as he popped onto his toes and gazed out into the trees, searching for something that just wouldn't seem to come.</p>
  <p>The worst feeling.</p>
  <p>He couldn't ever remember feeling so helpless. Not since he had been a child.</p>
  <p>If it had been any of the others that had gotten lost, he would have looked for them, too, and he would have felt terrible, for sure, but not like <em>that</em>. Not so guilty. The others had come because they had wanted to. They had volunteered themselves for this sort of thing. But not Ludwig. Ludwig had come along because Berwald had forced his hand.</p>
  <p>Nothing had ever felt so terrible, thinking that he had brought a kid out here in the middle of nowhere against his will and had gotten him killed for it.</p>
  <p>Not anything.</p>
  <p>The thought of walking into a room and never again having Ludwig look up at him and send him a smile. Of sitting at the table and glancing up only to realize that Ludwig wasn't there anymore.</p>
  <p>He couldn't have lived the rest of his life with that hanging over his head, he couldn't have.</p>
  <p>Oh, god, <em>finding </em>him, actually finding him there, wandering around in the snow, was nothing that Berwald could ever have explained. The pang of his heart suddenly lurching in his chest, the way he had felt himself drawing in a breath so sharp it had hurt his lungs, the way his feet had moved suddenly on their own accord, dragging him over to Ludwig without even stopping to think that maybe he should have said something first, just seeing him...</p>
  <p>Exhilaration, and somehow horror.</p>
  <p>Nearly getting shot hadn't been part of the plan, but it hadn't been a factor in his jittery mood. That hadn't been the reason he had felt ill the rest of the night.</p>
  <p>Somehow, it was hard to be excited.</p>
  <p>He couldn't explain why he felt sicker after finding Ludwig than he had when he had been looking for him. Maybe everything he had been trying to keep stifled had finally been given the chance to come out, once Ludwig was safe, or maybe it had just been the way Ludwig had looked at him.</p>
  <p>The way Ludwig had still been able to have a care for him and pull that mask back up, even though Berwald had put him into a situation that had nearly meant the end of him. The way that Ludwig still looked at him and still trusted him and for some unholy reason still <em>followed </em>him, knowing that he didn't do most things right or competently, knowing that Berwald had not shown much worth as a leader.</p>
  <p>Ludwig still followed him.</p>
  <p>He had never felt so awful.</p>
  <p>Days passed, and still, Berwald found himself sitting there, and feeling nauseous.</p>
  <p>He should have been able to get over it. Ludwig wasn't lying there, half-covered in some gnarly undergrowth in the middle of a nameless forest in Estonia. Ludwig wasn't in a little flask, tucked safely in his back pocket.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was here, alive and well and obviously bearing no scars from his brush with danger. Healthy and vibrant, as he should be. His hair and eyes were still bright, face still flushed with youthful vigor, and his teeth still gleamed as white as they always had on the occasion he actually chose to show them.</p>
  <p>Actin' kinda different now, maybe. No one else seemed to notice that, though. Maybe he was just seeing things.</p>
  <p>More than likely.</p>
  <p>In the end, Berwald was the one hung up, and he felt bad about that, too. He should have been the one to stand up strong and say, 'Get over it.'</p>
  <p>Instead, Ludwig just flitted around like a bird, active as always, and didn't even seem to remember being lost. It was Ludwig who looked at Berwald, shoulders firm, and asked, 'You alright?'</p>
  <p>That wasn't right. Upside-down.</p>
  <p>Well, there was nothing he could do about it, and, eventually, the guilt would go away, and so would the fear.</p>
  <p>Losing any of them had been one of his greatest fears (hell, he'd <em>never </em>admit it, but he'd'a cried a little if Magnus were to fall one day), and yet the thought of losing Ludwig, who had by many circumstances been put under his care, was horrifying. Ludwig, who trusted him more than the others did. Ludwig, who had never once looked at him and told him that something he suggested was wrong.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, who never questioned him.</p>
  <p>Unfathomable.</p>
  <p>So many things had run through his mind in those woods, but not all of them were within his grasp.</p>
  <p>It might have been the fever that had been thinking some of those things for him. Disjointed notions. Things he would say when he finally found Ludwig. The dismal, blurry image of himself falling onto his knees if he had found Ludwig halfway under the snow. The way even <em>thinking </em>about it made him feel as if he had lost something irreplaceable.</p>
  <p>If he had come across a motionless Ludwig, he could not have said with any certainty what he would have done. Maybe he had pulled down that hood and mask because some part of him had already assumed Ludwig was dead, and the recklessness had been meant to invite unfriendly eyes upon him.</p>
  <p>If Ludwig were gone...</p>
  <p>Darkness.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, whatever had been going through <em>his </em>mind during that time, didn't seem to hold any ill feelings towards him and his lack of leadership. If anything, actually, Ludwig's actions towards him had become considerably gentler, if that was an appropriate word.</p>
  <p>He noticed it a few days later.</p>
  <p>The first move had been simple; he had come into the kitchen, finding himself alone with Ludwig, and when they had locked eyes, Ludwig had reached up to place a palm upon his forehead. Maybe he had still looked sick. The fever was gone, though, and it wasn't illness that was making him pale. Fuckin' nightmares.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had smiled all the same, his hand lingering for a while, and Berwald had made no move to brush it off. Ludwig was alive; the hand was still warm. So, he just stood there, complacent and weary, and Ludwig had finally removed his hand, pushed Berwald carefully into a chair, and made sure he didn't lift a finger for anything the entire day.</p>
  <p>Weird.</p>
  <p>After that day, everything Ludwig did seemed different.</p>
  <p>Even when it came to waking him up.</p>
  <p>Now that there was no door to bang upon, instead, at the first light of dawn, Ludwig would put a hand on the top of his head, and leave it there until Berwald came to. The first time had been a little odd, a little surreal, but not the worst feeling in the world, that was for sure. It only took two days of <em>that </em>for him to start looking forward to it, and he realized that he didn't mind waking up early anymore, because it meant having something comforting ahead of him, and sitting there alone at the kitchen table over coffee with Ludwig was pretty pleasant.</p>
  <p>He felt at ease, for the first time in so long.</p>
  <p>Being around someone who seemed to enjoy his company rather than suffer it. Someone who didn't fidget under his gaze like Timo did. Someone who didn't challenge him belligerently every step of the way like Magnus did. Someone who didn't unnerve him like Lukas did.</p>
  <p>Just someone who could sit with him and talk to him and actually smile at him. Like he was perfectly normal. He'd spent most of his life thinking the opposite.</p>
  <p>The way Ludwig was acting now was pleasant, yes, but it was also more than a little peculiar. Sometimes, it felt like Ludwig was testing him, although he couldn't say why, or whether or not he was passing whatever invisible trials Ludwig seemed to be setting before him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's actions confused him, certainly, but that didn't mean he was going to complain about them.</p>
  <p>And, well...</p>
  <p>Teenagers were supposed to be like this, weren't they? Always up to something, always bored, always used to getting their way. Always messing with others for fun. Petulant and disobedient and bold. Ludwig hadn't ever been like that before, at least not while they had known him, but...</p>
  <p>Maybe he had just been jolted by the mishap, and was trying to enjoy life a little.</p>
  <p>Or something like that.</p>
  <p>He couldn't figure out some things Ludwig did, nor grasp the reasons for them. Most of them, actually.</p>
  <p>He couldn't figure out why Ludwig suddenly reached out in the mornings and smoothed down hair that was sticking upright. He couldn't figure out why Ludwig had started teasing him by suddenly coming up to him when he was doing something and plucking his glasses right off his nose. He couldn't figure out that damn smile, when Ludwig tucked the spectacles behind his back and studied him with a tilted head. He couldn't figure out why Ludwig forced him to actually come over if he wanted them back, and he couldn't figure out why Ludwig insisted on putting them back on himself. He couldn't figure out why, when he squinted his eyes shut defensively, Ludwig just said, in a voice that was more of a croon, 'What's the matter? I'm not gonna poke your eyes out!'</p>
  <p>He couldn't figure out why he felt so fidgety afterward.</p>
  <p>All the same, whatever it was that Ludwig was up to, he couldn't deny that it was steadily lifting his mood.</p>
  <p>Come to think, that might have been what Ludwig had intended all along, seeing that he had been struggling with the mishap. That thought was somehow endearing. That somebody cared enough about him not to let him sit around and mope all day. Even at the worst times, Ludwig still managed to take off the edge.</p>
  <p>And some days, god knew, he <em>needed </em>that.</p>
  <p>A particularly rough day in the forest had put him in a foul mood.</p>
  <p>He'd scampered through the brush for cover at the sight of a Red, and had gotten himself twisted up in a patch of hidden barbed wire. Ripped his arm to hell trying to get free, and everything had gone downhill from there. Afterwards, even after getting back on track, he could already feel the irritation mounting.</p>
  <p>His moods were fickle out here, to say the least.</p>
  <p>Reaching the house again hadn't really helped matters much, and he just sat there, chin in his palm and staring off into space as he brooded. Timo and Magnus avoided him like the plague all night, sensing the storm hanging over his head. Lukas, not alarmed but on the other hand not wanting to be struck by lightning, stayed in his bedroom.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, they were scared of him.</p>
  <p>The cushion next to him sinking down made him look over, and he quickly found himself nose to nose with a disheveled Ludwig. Quite literally. The tips of their noses brushed. It was only his fingers, caught over his mouth as he had turned his head, that kept their lips from bumping together.</p>
  <p>Alright, not <em>all</em> of them were scared of him.</p>
  <p>Had Ludwig meant to get that close? Ah, hell—he was too damn tired to even pull back, and just sat there, staring at Ludwig wearily and wanting to go to sleep. Let him do whatever he wanted.</p>
  <p>From Ludwig's ruffled appearance, he was just as tired, and just as ready to go to sleep. Nonetheless, Ludwig sat there for a while, seemingly content with that closeness, and finally, he lowered his eyes, and pulled back.</p>
  <p>"You're bleeding," Ludwig suddenly threw out, and when Berwald looked down at his arm, he could see the blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt.</p>
  <p>"It's nothin'."</p>
  <p>Whether it was nothing or not hardly seemed important to Ludwig; he had already reached down, yanking the sleeve up Berwald's arm to get a good look at the wound.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's warm fingers prodding his arm was a very unusual sensation. Physical contact with other human beings was a rather foreign concept. But hardly unpleasant. He sat there, quietly, and let Ludwig do as he would, because it was kind of nice to have someone fussing over him for once.</p>
  <p>Quickly, Ludwig had become less interested in his fresh wound and more interested in old ones, and he took Berwald's hand up into his own, eyes tracing every old scar he found upon them.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's hands were smooth. Unblemished. There was more than a little distance between their backgrounds. More like an ocean.</p>
  <p>He tugged his hand back in a moment of self-consciousness, and Ludwig looked up at him, asking, without missing a beat, "Tough work?"</p>
  <p>Work? No.</p>
  <p>Instead, Berwald muttered, lowly, "When I was your age, I got into fights a lot."</p>
  <p>Nobody had ever asked him.</p>
  <p>If Ludwig was surprised at the explanation, he didn't show it.</p>
  <p>He had mellowed down the older he had gotten, but at Ludwig's age he had been little more than a hyper-aggressive Magnus. Without the charm and wit. Not a pretty combination. Glad those days were over. Had he still been the same gruff, brash youth, he and Ludwig would have butted heads and probably tried to beat the hell out of each other every day, and Magnus woulda been dead by now.</p>
  <p>Now, calm(er) and mature, he appreciated Ludwig's presence.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just lifted his eyes back up, and said, "Well, better put some alcohol on it. Don't wanna get tetanus or anything out here, do ya?"</p>
  <p>Berwald had to grit his teeth and clamp his jaw to keep from wincing when Ludwig acted upon his statement and doused his wound with alcohol. Nobody here was a medic, not by any means, but they knew how to bandage up a wound, at least a little.</p>
  <p>Ludwig gave him a clap on the shoulder when he was done, and said, "I'll take the couch. Get some rest."</p>
  <p>Afterwards, even though he still felt like shit and his arm hurt, he lied in bed with a snoring Lukas, and realized that his mood was a bit better.</p>
  <p>He was becoming dependent upon Ludwig's ability to ease his nerves.</p>
  <p>Like a drug.</p>
  <p>Being around Ludwig lately had become similar to several shots of vodka.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Days passed.</p>
  <p>Ludwig got bolder with each and every one of them.</p>
  <p>It was perfectly possible that he was going crazy, and yet it seemed like Ludwig was starting to mess with his mind a little bit.</p>
  <p>A new experience, certainly.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig woke him up one chilly morning, with that warm hand in his hair, Berwald had groped around on the floor only to realize that Ludwig had hidden his glasses. He had spent more time than he would like to admit scrounging around for them, down on his knees and groping under every surface, bumping into end tables and feeling his way along the walls, and the whole while, Ludwig just followed him around, no doubt smiling, and waited for stubborn Berwald to ask for help.</p>
  <p>When he finally turned around and heaved a sigh of defeat, asking, 'Can I have 'em now?' Ludwig just gave a short 'Hm!'</p>
  <p>Then he said, in a prim, Lukas-inspired voice, 'I don't know what you mean.'</p>
  <p>What, did Ludwig want him to beg or something? He didn't understand what the hell Ludwig wanted.</p>
  <p>Later on, however, when Ludwig grabbed his arm and led him through the house, guiding him through daily rituals, it steadily dawned on him that Ludwig just wanted to see how he acted, how he looked, in a moment of vulnerability. To see what it would be like if Berwald ever had to rely on him for something. Ludwig wanted to be in charge for a day, if only in a small manner.</p>
  <p>...actually, it hadn't bothered him too much. Not being blind—he didn't like <em>that</em>. It just didn't bother him much to spend time with Ludwig. To hear Ludwig's voice in his ear. Kind of relaxing, in a way, to let go of the wheel and let someone else steer. No pressure.</p>
  <p>He spent the great majority of the day like that, being led around by Ludwig like a little kid, until, finally, he turned to Ludwig, and conceded complete, friendly defeat. Whatever Ludwig wanted, he'd do it. And surely Ludwig wanted something, because otherwise he couldn't think of a good reason for blinding him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had won this game.</p>
  <p>'Alright. I give. Whaddya want?'</p>
  <p>Ludwig just responded, 'Not a thing.'</p>
  <p>The glasses were set upon his nose shortly afterward. His vision came back, colors bled into focus, a blurry Ludwig turned into a crystal-clear one, and it had actually been a little bit breathtaking, to see Ludwig's smile, to see the individual strands of his hair sweeping back, to see his eyes in sharp contrast after only being able to make out fuzzy shapes for hours on end.</p>
  <p>Kind of like walking outside on a cloudy night and having the moon shine out through a break in the front.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had just stared at him for minute, and then walked away.</p>
  <p>And that had been that.</p>
  <p>He never truly had figured <em>that </em>one out. Whatever Ludwig had been up to was beyond him.</p>
  <p>One afternoon, hanging sheets and clothes out to dry, Ludwig suddenly looked over at him, flashed a beam, and said, 'You need to smile more, you know?'</p>
  <p>Berwald opened his mouth, and was quite ready to retort, 'You're one to talk!' but fell short. Ludwig hadn't ever really smiled much; that was, at least, until very recently. Nowadays...seemed like Ludwig was smiling a <em>lot</em>, at least when he was around. Kinda strange.</p>
  <p>He just gave Ludwig a quick look, and said, noncommittally, 'Hm.'</p>
  <p>A flash of movement. A sudden scent of linen, as Ludwig took a sheet he was hanging and turned quickly around to toss it over Berwald's head.</p>
  <p>Darkness.</p>
  <p>He was taken completely off guard, that much was certain, because nothing about Ludwig had ever really seemed to be all that spontaneous, and yet still here he was, stuck under a cool bed sheet and struggling to surface above it as Ludwig ruffled his hair a bit roughly.</p>
  <p>Something Lukas might have done to Ludwig.</p>
  <p>...Lukas was a bad influence.</p>
  <p>It wasn't really that hard to break free of Ludwig's playful grip (whether he really wanted to or not was hardly of concern), and when he pulled the sheet off of his head, hair sticking up to high heaven with static and glasses crooked, he realized that he had actually cracked a little bit of a smile. A breathless, confused one, but a smile all the same. Felt strange.</p>
  <p>Not long after, Timo wandered outside, hands in his pockets, and looked at them curiously.</p>
  <p>'What's all the ruckus?'</p>
  <p>They must have looked a bit strange, Berwald suddenly disheveled and Ludwig gathering sheets from the ground, and Timo was no doubt wondering what the hell they were up to.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, face so damn serious all of sudden, had turned around, brow high, and responded, 'What ruckus?'</p>
  <p>Timo, looking as confused as Berwald felt, just lifted a shoulder, furrowed his brow, and gave a quick, 'Huh.'</p>
  <p>With that, he turned around, walked back inside, and the second the door closed, Ludwig's face lit back up like daybreak, and he started laughing.</p>
  <p>Berwald was pretty sure then that he had been drinking too much lately. He was always so confused these days.</p>
  <p>Often times, he found himself looking around helplessly, and he wanted to say to the others, 'Are you <em>seeing </em>this, or am I just goin' crazy?'</p>
  <p>No one was ever around to ask. Ludwig was clever enough to make sure they were alone whenever he threw out something odd. When the others were around, Ludwig was calm, cool, and completely normal.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was playing a game, a different one every day, and Berwald seemed to be stuck in the middle, for whatever reason. Couldn't complain much. Being the center of somebody's attention was quite enthralling.</p>
  <p>All the same, in an effort to confirm whether or not it was time for him to pack up his things and go off to the asylum, Berwald kept Lukas close to his side all day long soon after, so that when Ludwig did something strange, Berwald could grab Lukas' arm, twist him around and say, 'See that? Do you see that?'</p>
  <p>And that whole damn day, Ludwig was quiet, straight-faced, and perfectly collected. Berwald stared at him the whole time, eyes narrowed and focused behind his glasses, waiting for any twitch or any glance, but Ludwig was <em>smarter</em> than he was, apparently, because he got nothin'. Not once, not a single time, had Ludwig sent him a great smile, or lifted his hand to conjure up anything bizarre.</p>
  <p>Ludwig let Berwald get his own coffee. Ludwig didn't reach out to straighten his glasses or smooth his hair. Ludwig didn't crack a smile unless it was Lukas who prompted one. Ludwig's voice didn't change pitch once. And fuckin' Ludwig didn't even quirk a brow, not even when Berwald had started staring at him so intently that he could very likely have set Ludwig ablaze.</p>
  <p>Nothing.</p>
  <p>Berwald let Lukas go that night, feeling strangely disappointed, and the very <em>second </em>that Lukas had wandered out of the room, Ludwig's perfect posture slouched a bit, he placed his hands on the counter, lowered his chin, and started beaming.</p>
  <p>Berwald was pretty certain, then :</p>
  <p>He was fuckin' insane.</p>
  <p>So he had just stared at Ludwig with a scrunched brow, shook his head, and when Ludwig started laughing, Berwald tossed himself down in a chair and thunked his head on the table. Crazy, alright.</p>
  <p>Well. Being crazy didn't really feel all that bad. Ludwig's laugh was pretty easy on the ears.</p>
  <p>If <em>this </em>was crazy...</p>
  <p>Cuckoo.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>One day, when spring was getting much warmer and turning into summer, the morning started off on the wrong foot.</p>
  <p>He dreamt of Ludwig, lost in the woods, and by the time the dawn came, he was already in a bad mood. Lack of sleep. Ludwig's hand hadn't been upon his head at the rise of the sun.</p>
  <p>The day was already going downhill.</p>
  <p>When he finally got up and tromped around, his agitation intensified when he realized that Ludwig was gone, and so was Lukas. Berwald had barely been able to keep his coffee down as he had stood there on the steps outside, foot tapping away and arms crossed and scanning the street every few seconds.</p>
  <p>Nausea. Anger.</p>
  <p>Where had they gone off to? The thought of Ludwig going anywhere with Lukas, of all people, was a rather frightening prospect. If Lukas had led him off on an impromptu mission, if Lukas had recruited Ludwig to carry around bundles of dynamite, right in the middle of this Red snake pit. If Ludwig got <em>hurt</em>. Lukas may have had infinite luck, but Ludwig did not. Lukas' wandering feet could very well have been the end of Ludwig's clumsy ones.</p>
  <p>He felt sick the whole day, not quite comprehending why, until finally, when the afternoon sun was high, they came ambling back into sight. They walked side by side, like old friends, and Berwald was so <em>angry </em>at Lukas all of a sudden that he hardly noticed the bags slung over their backs.</p>
  <p>When they glimpsed him standing there on the creaking wooden steps, arms still crossed and lips pursed, they just raised up their brows and smiled at him, like they had never done anything wrong.</p>
  <p>They had barely even come within ear shot when he snapped, "Where have ya been?"</p>
  <p>They didn't even flinch. At that tone of voice, Magnus and Timo probably would've ducked their heads down and started off in the opposite direction. But Lukas had never really bowed down to Berwald's anger, not ever, and Ludwig didn't even twitch or shift his gaze.</p>
  <p>Had to be these two.</p>
  <p>It was Lukas who answered him, saying, smoothly, "Just went out to procure some new things, is all. Ludwig and I like to stay prepared."</p>
  <p>"And you're just carryin' it all back like that, huh? Not even tryin' to hide it?"</p>
  <p>His irritable mood was obvious, but still they seemed so damn carefree.</p>
  <p>They shared a look, and Lukas was quick to add, with a flip of his hair, "Sure! Why not? Who would ever suspect two handsome men like us?"</p>
  <p>Their smiles were starting to grate him, and he shook his head, trying very much to look like a disappointed parent, which was actually pretty much exactly what he felt like.</p>
  <p>Walkin' through the streets, bags full of bullets and guns and god only knew what else slung over their shoulders, not even trying to be stealthy.</p>
  <p>He could understand Lukas being reckless. Lukas believed very much in hiding in plain sight, as it was, and surely he felt no harm would come to them as long as he carried all of his things in his lucky backpack. One day, Berwald was going to take that goddamn bag and burn it while Lukas was asleep. See how fuckin' lucky he was then.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, on the other hand, surprised him. A soldier should know better.</p>
  <p>Lukas really <em>was </em>a bad influence.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's smile was easy and calm, and when he caught Berwald's eye, he said, without a trace of guilt, "You shoulda come along. I got some pretty good stuff."</p>
  <p>Ludwig was jerking him around—how had he ever been expected to come along, when they had snuck out intentionally?</p>
  <p>All the same, when Ludwig walked up the steps and passed him, sending him an exceedingly long and pointed glance that very nearly made <em>him </em>flinch, Berwald tried to make his displeasure known, if only by glaring. Well. Not really glaring. He didn't have quite the heart to glare at Ludwig or Lukas, not like he could Magnus, but he gave it a damn good effort.</p>
  <p>Not good enough, apparently, for when Ludwig crossed the threshold into the house, Berwald could hear him starting to laugh.</p>
  <p>Meh.</p>
  <p>As soon as Ludwig was out of sight, Berwald reached out, grabbed Lukas' collar, and pulled him aside.</p>
  <p>"What are you thinkin', huh?" were the first words that had come out of his mouth, and Lukas had just stared up at him, quite contentedly, glossy hair whipping in the wind, that leering smile never leaving his face.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't exactly say why he was so annoyed with Lukas all of a sudden. So reckless.</p>
  <p>"If yer gonna go out and try an' get yourself killed, that's all well and good, but don't drag him into it. What're ya thinkin', huh? I told you before, not to go off without tellin' anybody! Didn't you learn your lesson last time? It's bad enough goin' off on your own, but why do ya want to put him in the middle of it? Leave him here next time or don't go out at all. You oughta know better! Isn't he your friend, huh? What's the matter with you?"</p>
  <p>God almighty, that had been the most he had spoken in years, it seemed.</p>
  <p>Lukas, far from subdued or shamed by his words, just lit up with a great smile, fawn eyelashes nearly hiding his deep blue eyes as he crinkled them up to fit his leer. It had been a long time since he had seen Lukas grin like that, too. Fuckin' Cheshire cat.</p>
  <p>"<em>I </em>didn't take him <em>anywhere</em>," Lukas finally sniffed, quite primly. "Why, he woke <em>me </em>up and I just went along with him."</p>
  <p>The hand in Lukas' collar lost its grip, and eventually fell. Hadn't expected that.</p>
  <p>Berwald knew he musta looked dumb, standing there with a crinkled brow and a crooked grimace, and Lukas just reached out, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, easily, "I think he's tryin' to impress you, since he got lost. You shoulda seen him out there, barterin' like a master."</p>
  <p>Huh. Was that it? Was that why Ludwig had been acting so strange lately? Because he was trying to prove himself? Something about that didn't quite sit well—didn't feel like the right explanation. Ludwig didn't even seem to recall being put in danger, let alone that hung up about it.</p>
  <p>All the same, his face fell a bit, and he sighed.</p>
  <p>Lukas used his silence as an opportunity to throw out, slyly, "Looks like you've been worrying about him. Miss him when I take him?"</p>
  <p>If Lukas had been friendlier, like Magnus, he might have winked as he had said that, and Berwald was glad he hadn't, because otherwise he mighta punched Lukas right in his pretty nose. Christ, he hadn't been this aggressive since Magnus had challenged his authority that first time. Ludwig was trouble, alright. One way or another.</p>
  <p>Sure <em>did</em> miss him, though. When he wasn't around.</p>
  <p>Lukas was a creep all the same.</p>
  <p>When he finally left Lukas to his own devices, trudging back inside and feeling dumb for some reason, he found Magnus and Timo sitting at the kitchen table, heads pressed together as they whispered to each other, and, for the first time, Berwald realized that their fingers were intertwined beneath the table. How long had that been going on, that he hadn't noticed? A lapse in observation on his part.</p>
  <p>A pang.</p>
  <p>It didn't seem fair, somehow, but not like it had been before. It hadn't seemed fair before that Magnus was able to charm Timo off his feet, sure, but now...</p>
  <p>Somehow...</p>
  <p>It didn't seem fair that they had each other, and he still found his own hands very much empty. Ludwig's hand only ever seemed to be in his hair, and only briefly.</p>
  <p>...not that it was the same thing, anyway. Ludwig had never actually tried to grab his hand. His gestures had been friendly. Nothing more. Ludwig frequently attempted to tame Magnus' messy hair, so it didn't really mean anything.</p>
  <p>Not the same.</p>
  <p>Irritable yet again, he sought out Ludwig, if only because he figured he may as well see what the hell the sneaky bastard had brought back so that he wouldn't have to think much about his own lonesomeness.</p>
  <p>His head hurt a bit.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been acting strangely, but he hadn't ever lowered his fingers from his hair down to his cheek. Ludwig had called him handsome that day, yeah, but he probably hadn't meant it. Just tryin' to make him feel better. Timo hadn't been interested in him, he had known it all along, because Magnus <em>was </em>handsome. Why would Ludwig, as handsome as Magnus (or almost), be interested in him?</p>
  <p>Not that he <em>cared</em>, mind. Nope.</p>
  <p>It occurred to him then that he was actually arguing with himself in his head. Not good.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was trouble.</p>
  <p>He was glad all the same to find Ludwig in the room he shared with Lukas, so that his mind would stop trying to sabotage him.</p>
  <p>Kind of strange, stepping inside a room that was not really his. He'd slept in here a couple of times, but with Lukas. When Ludwig was in here, it was like setting foot in some kind of forbidden land, and he could already feel his stomach tightening in nervousness as he pushed the door open with a careful finger. This merciless, churning anxiety was probably what Romeo had felt when he had climbed up Juliet's terrace—</p>
  <p>Oh, <em>god</em>. Embarrassment.</p>
  <p>Magnus. Too much fuckin' Magnus. Startin' to rub off on him, and that was a horrifying, horrifying notion. Listening to Magnus spout Shakespeare whenever he could had damaged his brain, for sure. He was starting to lose his grip on the real world. And no doubt that Ludwig would have kicked him right in the ribs again if he had ever known that he had been compared, even so innocently, to a woman.</p>
  <p>Still...</p>
  <p>Ludwig sat quite idly on the bed, alone, feet crossed and hands behind his head, propped up on a pillow, and when Berwald stood there in the frame, he glanced up, and lifted his chin in silent greeting.</p>
  <p>The bright sun streaming in through the window lit Ludwig's pale eyes up nearly white.</p>
  <p>If one day he and Magnus ever became, god forbid, <em>friends</em>, then he would ask the son of a bitch to say that one line aloud, the only one that Berwald had ever been somewhat familiar with. The one with the window.</p>
  <p>Just to see how it sounded.</p>
  <p>The springs in the bed squeaked as Ludwig shifted his weight and waited for Berwald to speak.</p>
  <p>The bed was small—Ludwig and Lukas must've been pressed up against each other somethin' close, and that seemed a bit unpleasant. No doubt that at some point during the night, in the midst of dreaming and turning, they wound up with an arm or leg tossed over each others', because that was what had happened the few nights that Berwald had tried to stuff himself into this tiny bed.</p>
  <p>He could imagine them, criss-crossed during the night, and meanwhile, he found himself huddled on the couch, cold and alone. He could smell Ludwig's shaving cream, mingled with Lukas' cologne. Two scents that he realized he didn't find all that pleasant together. Made him uncomfortable. Hard to say why. Lukas and Ludwig had been sleepin' in the same bed for a long while, now, hadn't they?</p>
  <p>Why would it bother him now?</p>
  <p>After he had been standing there for an awkward amount of time, Ludwig finally addressed him.</p>
  <p>"Can I help you with something, Berwald?"</p>
  <p>He opened his mouth to answer, fell still suddenly at the tone of Ludwig's voice, and shifted his weight.</p>
  <p>Hadn't heard that voice, before. Low and mellow, more of a velvety rumble, something that Berwald could only imagine that someone like Magnus would try to pull off when he was attempting to be particularly appealing in Timo's eyes. Sultry, although a misplaced and awkward and somehow <em>terrifying </em>word, seemed to describe it pretty well.</p>
  <p>He wondered all of a sudden if this was the voice that Ludwig used when he crooned with Magnus in that Jutland speech they used. He couldn't say why that thought made him squirm.</p>
  <p>Good god, something was wrong with him. He'd been so antsy lately. Ludwig getting lost had done in his nerves, it seemed. That was the only excuse he could come up with. Because he certainly wasn't <em>jealous</em>. That wouldn't make any sense.</p>
  <p>Yup—cuckoo.</p>
  <p>Finally, Berwald found his voice again, and asked, simply, "Where'd ya put all that stuff? I wanna take a look."</p>
  <p>Ludwig stared at him, rather intensely, and Berwald hardly had time to shuffle his feet before Ludwig answered, "In the chest."</p>
  <p>Implying the oak chest that lied at the foot of the bed, Berwald came fully inside the room, and Ludwig just watched him the whole while. He fell to a knee before the trunk, lifted up the heavy wooden top, and hesitated. Damn! Lukas' damn cables and wires, tangled all over the place like morbid streamers. Shit made him nervous as hell, he wouldn't lie.</p>
  <p>Reluctant to dig his hands in the dangerous depths, he peered up at Ludwig, who was leering down at him from the bed, and prodded, "Which side you put it on?"</p>
  <p>He didn't really want to go on a fishing expedition in the middle of Lukas' <em>hobby</em>. Who would?</p>
  <p>"Left," Ludwig said, simply.</p>
  <p>"My left?"</p>
  <p>"My right."</p>
  <p>"So...my left?"</p>
  <p>"No, your right."</p>
  <p>...what?</p>
  <p>Berwald fell still for a moment, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes, and when he glanced up, catching the exceedingly serious look upon Ludwig's face, he knew he was being had.</p>
  <p>My right, your right?</p>
  <p>His fingers gripped the edge of the chest, and, with a great sigh, Berwald finally just stuck his hands in and rooted around. He was pretty sure that there was a cold sweat upon his brow as he did so. Eventually, heart hammering away, he found the satchel of goods, and couldn't wrench his hands up out of those wires fast enough.</p>
  <p>When he pulled himself to his feet, Ludwig's seriousness had turned into a strange smirk, and he just drawled, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"</p>
  <p>His crossed feet uncrossed and crossed again, hands still behind his head in easy confidence, and the smirk was steadily reverting back into a leer.</p>
  <p>Berwald could only tilt his head, and wonder, 'Who the hell is <em>this </em>guy?'</p>
  <p>Not the same Ludwig that had refused his helping hand long ago, that was certain. This Ludwig seemed more like the kinda guy that woulda grabbed his hand and yanked him down to the floor instead.</p>
  <p>...for whatever reason.</p>
  <p>Gripping the bag in his hands, he backed up, meaning to escape from Ludwig's hawkish gaze, but before he could even gain a meter Ludwig had ordered, firmly, "Sit."</p>
  <p><em> He </em>was supposed to be the leader here, and yet somehow Berwald found himself sitting immediately, obeying Ludwig's command like a damn dog. His head was a little fuzzy.</p>
  <p>Taking a careful spot as close to the edge as he could, he glanced over at Ludwig anxiously, and had nearly forgotten about the bag in his hand until Ludwig asked, in a softer voice, "Aren't you gonna look?"</p>
  <p>His first thought was a dumb, 'Huh?'</p>
  <p>Somehow, sometimes, Ludwig had a way of mesmerizing him without even trying. Not really a good thing. He was gonna find himself bleeding to death in the forest one day if he couldn't keep his mind focused.</p>
  <p>He finally managed to tear his eyes away from Ludwig, look down, and open up the bag. Bullets, of different lengths. A canister of something that smelled curiously like gunpowder. New compasses. And something else.</p>
  <p>A German scope, the exact same as the one that had been on his rifle. His rifle, once, but Ludwig's now.</p>
  <p>A familiar, comforting sight.</p>
  <p>Pulling it out and turning the scope over in his hands, he looked up at Ludwig, and asked, curiously, "Did yours break? You shoulda said somethin', I woulda got Eduard to find ya a new one."</p>
  <p>Ludwig, one foot swaying away easily, said, "Mine's fine. That's for you."</p>
  <p>Oh.</p>
  <p>The expression on Ludwig's face was hard for him to put a name to, but that hardly seemed like a concern anymore. Not with the feeling that was writhing its way into his chest. Ludwig had thought of him when he had gone out, and had likely parted with something important to obtain this gift.</p>
  <p>A very simple thing. People did nice things for other people all the time. It meant more than he could put into words.</p>
  <p>Finally, he gathered his voice, and said, lamely, "Thanks."</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>He had been trying to do everything in his power <em>not </em>to encourage Ludwig, but, hell, he couldn't really help it; he reached out, clapped Ludwig's knee in a burst of friendly affection, and felt himself smiling.</p>
  <p>"Thanks," he said again, and Ludwig was smiling, too.</p>
  <p>Because it was the nicest thing anyone had done for <em>him</em> in a while.</p>
  <p>Actually...</p>
  <p>It was really the only time he could remember that someone had done something nice for him at all.</p>
  <p>Every time he looked up, it seemed, Ludwig meant a little more.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Summer was high.</p>
  <p>The tally of men on both sides had gotten high, too, far too high. The Forest Brothers were steadily dwindling. A rather hurtful fact.</p>
  <p>Somehow, the forests were harder to navigate in the heat than they were in the snow.</p>
  <p>Berwald dreaded seeing them now.</p>
  <p>Dressed darkly to match the earth, the heat built up steadily over the day, stifling, the glare of the sun, even through the foliage, was unbearable, and the fuckin' mosquitoes were pushing him towards the edge of his patience. The constant chatter of the birds made it hard to hear approaching soldiers. The sound of the leaves and branches swaying in the wind, rather than being comforting, constantly broke his concentration.</p>
  <p>He was starting to hate it here. Sure as hell had been easier in winter.</p>
  <p>His mind had been scattered lately, and when they set out one morning, he realized he didn't even fuckin' <em>feel </em>like it. He just didn't feel like it. Rather go back in and toss himself on the couch. All the same, he lifted his foot, took a deep breath, and started forward. He had signed himself up for this, the very first time he had ever picked up a gun.</p>
  <p>The trees approached.</p>
  <p>A voice cut him short.</p>
  <p>"Berwald."</p>
  <p>Freezing still, he looked back, and Ludwig was standing there, gun slung over his shoulder. He knew it was Ludwig, although why he was here in front, rather than in the back, was a mystery.</p>
  <p>Gloved hands reached out, suddenly, and fell into his hair.</p>
  <p>A jolt.</p>
  <p>It didn't take him long to realize that Ludwig was tucking the loose strands of blond under the darkness of his hood. He hadn't even thought about it, really, and that was bad. Ludwig had followed him, to make sure he was at least prepared. He'd been getting lax lately. The irritation was clouding his mind. A glint of his hair amongst the woods would have been dangerous.</p>
  <p>Ludwig methodically pinned every strand back, straightened everything else as he saw fit, and when Berwald met his standards, Ludwig smacked him on the back and sent him off, like he was Berwald's goddamn mother, afterwards trotting to the back where he belonged.</p>
  <p>Berwald set off into the forest, and he was quick to notice that he suddenly felt a bit eager. Couldn't explain why—probably just the adrenaline, waking him up a bit. Anyway, the faster he got through this route, the faster he could get back to the house.</p>
  <p>And Ludwig.</p>
  <p>The next time they went out, he found himself failing to pin his hair under the hood.</p>
  <p>He wasn't really sure why he didn't. Because he wouldn't admit to himself that he just liked the feel of Ludwig's fingers, and he couldn't think of another explanation. He was too proud to sit down and just say to himself that Ludwig was growing on him. Thick-headed. His stubbornness, however, seemed to be hardly daunting to Ludwig, and one night, Ludwig seemed particularly determined to break it down.</p>
  <p>Almost two months had gone by since Ludwig had been lost in the forest, two months of this intimidating new Ludwig, and that night had been the first time in a while that they had had the time or energy to sit down and drink together.</p>
  <p>Berwald found that he had missed their time together, sitting in a circle and enjoying each others' company.</p>
  <p>Even Magnus'.</p>
  <p>The days now were growing hotter, but the nights were still chilly enough to warrant the fireplace, and when Magnus and Timo came home with alcohol, Berwald had had no qualms about joining them. Some part of him hoped that if Ludwig were drunk, he might crack and make a mistake and do something in front of the others, and Berwald would know once and for all if it was just in his head.</p>
  <p>And Ludwig got drunk, alright, but somehow he still kept a grip on himself until the time was right. Even so intoxicated that he bumped his head on the table trying to grab a glass, Ludwig still had enough restraint to plot his moves. Goddamn boot-camp had instilled that within him, no doubt.</p>
  <p>Lukas retired early on, a staggering Magnus was led to bed by an equally staggering Timo a few hours later, and Berwald was already far beyond being tipsy.</p>
  <p>In the end, it was only Ludwig and himself that remained, and that was just fine with him.</p>
  <p>Although...</p>
  <p>Now that they were alone, <em>that</em> Ludwig was quick to come out.</p>
  <p>And this Ludwig had no problem with making Berwald feel absolutely helpless, more so than the sober one could. Not necessarily in a bad way. Nothing malicious, certainly. Nothing about Ludwig was mean-spirited, and yet he still had the uncanny ability to make Berwald flinch.</p>
  <p>They passed the remnants of the bottle back and forth, and every so often, when Ludwig took it, he made sure to brush his fingers over Berwald's. No harm there.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself reaching out and giving Ludwig a friendly shake to the shoulder, when he felt like it, because honestly Ludwig was the only one he felt comfortable enough around to do so. Placing his hand on anyone else would have earned him a strange look. Even Lukas would have done a double-take at that.</p>
  <p>Not Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Their eyes met, once in a while, and it occurred to Berwald at times that he felt something close to <em>happy </em>when Ludwig was around. Clumsy words floated around his head, but he couldn't pin any of them down, and even though he wanted to express these sentiments to Ludwig, he just couldn't find his voice. Well. They'd come to him eventually.</p>
  <p>In the meanwhile, Ludwig seemed to have plenty to say.</p>
  <p>Bleary-eyed and slurring words so badly that he was barely even comprehensible, Ludwig looked over at Berwald, loose bangs falling into his eyes, and broke into one of those great smiles he had been seeing recently. The ones that made him feel a little bit dazed.</p>
  <p>"It's late," Ludwig said, cheeks flushed red and teeth gleaming in the firelight. "Aren't you tired? Why don't you come to bed?"</p>
  <p>Erhm—</p>
  <p>There was that helplessness that Ludwig was so good at bringing out.</p>
  <p>Shifting suddenly and feeling extremely jittery even through the intoxication, Berwald could only say, slowly, "Er... What?"</p>
  <p><em> Come </em>to bed?</p>
  <p>Ludwig just smiled all the more, turned his unfocused eyes back to the fire, and he then said, "You should go to bed. It's gettin' late."</p>
  <p>Ah. Now it was <em>go </em>to bed, was it?</p>
  <p>Ludwig was messing with his head, alright.</p>
  <p>"Yer still sittin' on my bed," he said, perhaps unwisely, and the look Ludwig sent him for some reason made him want to keel over dead from embarrassment.</p>
  <p>An exceedingly intense expression, as Ludwig's piercing eyes had him stuck, and for a godawful moment, Berwald was certain that Ludwig was just going to scoot over and say, 'So lie down! There's room for both of us here!'</p>
  <p>He wasn't sure he coulda handled that, not as awkward as he was. This bold Ludwig was going to be the death of him one day.</p>
  <p>"Am I?"</p>
  <p>A short silence, and then Ludwig stood up, wobbling back and forth, and when Berwald leapt up and placed a hand on his back to steady him, he was pretty sure that Ludwig was leaning backwards then on purpose. And he was pretty sure that he wasn't really complaining. All the same, he kept one hand on Ludwig's back and grabbed his arm with the other, and led Ludwig towards his room.</p>
  <p>"You know," Ludwig began, as Berwald tried to keep him balanced enough to make it to his bed, "I say next time we make Lukas take the couch."</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned his head to stare at him, so close that their lips would have brushed together if Ludwig had been taller, and Berwald could only swallow, and keep on walking. He could feel how unholy red his face was, and knew that, even dead drunk, Ludwig could see it too. Ludwig was beaming again, apparently quite proud of himself for the reaction he had produced. Kinda sloppy, the smile, but the effect was still rather dazzling.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself swallowing again, dryly, when Ludwig reached up a too-warm hand and ran it down the stubble on his cheek.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe.</p>
  <p>Staggering suddenly, whether by accident or intentionally, Ludwig took a fistful of his shirt, and Berwald was somehow relieved and disappointed when the bedroom was reached. Damn door hadn't seemed so close a minute ago.</p>
  <p>Some little part of his mind actually had considered, just a little, that maybe kicking Lukas onto the couch hadn't been such a bad idea. Not just so that he could share the bed with Ludwig, no, just so that he wouldn't be stuck onto that tiny couch every single night. Right. That was why.</p>
  <p>Reaching out, he pushed the door open, gently, and tried to pull Ludwig through.</p>
  <p>They weren't exactly stealthy, not as drunk as Ludwig was, but somehow he managed to successfully toss Ludwig down upon the bed all the same. Lukas shifted, but if he had woken then he didn't show it. He could be glad for that; Lukas would have had no problem embarrassing him all the more.</p>
  <p>He tugged Ludwig's boots off, out of courtesy, and as he meant to leave, Ludwig grabbed another handful of his shirt. Soft, muttered words he couldn't understand, and he could feel the fist in his shirt tugging him back.</p>
  <p>Oh, damn. Now what?</p>
  <p>His pulse was racing all of a sudden. Way too warm in here. Time to put the fire out. He stood there, and finally gathered enough sense to reach gently down, taking Ludwig's hand in his own and prying the fingers carefully apart. He got off easy that night; Ludwig's fist fell down onto the bed, and he was out like a light. Berwald made a swift escape.</p>
  <p>In the morning, Ludwig came crawling out of bed after Berwald had already awoken. He looked pretty terrible, no doubt feeling terrible, too, but Berwald still made sure to keep a rather intent gaze upon him, just to see what he would be up to now.</p>
  <p>Every day, Ludwig seemed to have a new trick up his sleeve. Berwald was always on his toes.</p>
  <p>This morning, though, the hangover was enough to keep Ludwig down. At least for a few hours. Afterwards, Ludwig sat there at the kitchen table, slouched and disheveled and neck craned downward, and yet when Berwald came into the room, he still managed to look up through the bangs that were plastered to his forehead, rough as he was, and give a crooked smile.</p>
  <p>A vision of youthful confidence.</p>
  <p>Even through the stubble and the shadows beneath his eyes, through the pallid shade of his skin and the obvious headache and the squinting of his sore eyes in the sunlight, the way that Ludwig was smiling still lit him up.</p>
  <p>Oh, <em>damn</em>—no one had ever smiled at him like that.</p>
  <p>Berwald was fairly certain, seeing that smile, that even though by all rights he should have been drawing blanks, Ludwig remembered pretty well what had gone on last night, at least the important parts. How awkward. Knowing that Ludwig surely remembered saying, 'Come to bed,' and was probably thinking of something he could say right now to outdo himself.</p>
  <p>He sat himself down at the tiny table, putting himself in perhaps a dangerously close proximity with Ludwig, and tried to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. He waited. Like with much else, it didn't take long for clever Ludwig to come up with something.</p>
  <p>A sudden, low whisper startled him. So did the tone of voice.</p>
  <p>"You look good this morning."</p>
  <p>A guttural, husky intonation that he had never heard Ludwig use, even stranger than the tone he had taken on that day in the bedroom.</p>
  <p>It took a second for the words to sink in.</p>
  <p>Oh—!</p>
  <p>Berwald started upright, tossing his palms on the table, heart pounding and eyes wide, and just said, dumbly, "Um! Huh?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig just kept on leering at him, gaze heavy and lidded, and after a second, he shifted tone again.</p>
  <p>"I said, it looks good this morning. The coffee, I mean."</p>
  <p>"...oh."</p>
  <p>Ludwig's leer was starting to show his teeth, canines pokin' out like a damn wolf as he focused his attention down on his mug, and Berwald was starting to really consider that Ludwig was attempting to kill him via heart-attack.</p>
  <p>Confusion.</p>
  <p>Was he hearing things now, or was this just like last night?</p>
  <p>It seemed that, with Ludwig around, he didn't really know anymore whether he was coming or going. He didn't know who was in charge here. Ludwig said one thing, but meant the complete opposite. Ludwig evaded one thing here and was painfully persistent over there. He found himself constantly on the defensive, as he had long ago when Lukas had first come home with a bristling Magnus in tow.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's aggression was not malicious, not like Magnus' had been. He found himself fighting for control, alright, but when Ludwig was seeking to overthrow him, Berwald couldn't exactly say that he minded all that much. He wasn't sure what Ludwig really wanted, but he wasn't so dumb that he didn't know it would be something on the pleasant side.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was a damn bit of trouble, like Magnus had always said.</p>
  <p>When Berwald looked in the mirror sometimes, he realized that he was starting to get a crease in the middle of his brow. Already gettin' frown wrinkles and hardly thirty. Ludwig made him scrunch his eyes so much in confusion.</p>
  <p>That night, after the others had gone to bed, he found himself sitting cross-legged on the couch, turned towards the inside as Ludwig sat on the other end, and they faced each other as they started drinking again. Berwald had instigated this night, and he already had plans for the next night, too. He was probably going to end up turning Ludwig into an alcoholic, just trying to get him to keep looking at him like <em>that</em>.</p>
  <p>The way that Ludwig smiled at him was worth nearly anything. The way that Ludwig looked at him made him feel far more important than anything he had done so far in this war had.</p>
  <p>The <em>sight </em>of him—god.</p>
  <p>He remembered the first time he had laid eyes upon Timo, breathless and red-faced and so damn beautiful, and what he had felt then. That burn in his chest, the hitch of his breath, the way he hadn't been able to take his eyes away, the way his veins had flooded with adrenaline, the way that the world had seemed a little brighter.</p>
  <p>He took that, he gripped that memory, and brought it forth to compare it to what he felt now when he looked at Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Now, Ludwig was breathless and red-faced and damn beautiful, so it was easy to sit those feelings side by side.</p>
  <p>Comparison? Hardly. Not even close.</p>
  <p>The burn had turned into acid. His lungs had completely seized. His eyes were glued. The flood of adrenaline had turned into an ocean. The world was on fire.</p>
  <p>He hadn't looked at Ludwig the first time and been instantly struck down, not like he had Timo. Actually, the first time he had looked at Ludwig he had wanted nothing more than to get rid of him and never see his face again. It had taken him a while, a long while, to figure out that Ludwig appealed to him more than just physically, but hell.</p>
  <p>Well worth the wait.</p>
  <p>Anyway, who really believed in that 'love-at-first-sight' bullshit? Hadn't ever worked for <em>him</em>, that much was certain. Look where it had gotten him with Timo.</p>
  <p>Nowhere.</p>
  <p>Every time Ludwig swayed forward tipsily, teeth gleaming in the light and bleary eyes squinted with a smile, every deep breath he took and with every lean against the cushion in a moment of dizziness, every shift of emotion upon his face, the thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead, every time he moved, Berwald was fairly certain that everything was right in the world.</p>
  <p>Just seeing Ludwig.</p>
  <p>The way his hair came loose when he was intoxicated or tired. The way the square of his jaw contrasted with the sharpness of his nose. The way the open neck of his shirt exposed his collarbone. The way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. The way the German 'r's came from within his throat rather than his tongue, in a rumbling purr that Berwald could never hope to imitate. The way the thin fabric of his shirt clung to every line of muscle. The way the pale hairs on his arms stood up straight when a cold wind blew.</p>
  <p>The way he crinkled his nose when he laughed.</p>
  <p>His hands. His voice.</p>
  <p>Whatever was going on outside was hardly a concern. War—what war? When Ludwig was around, he was everything. Everything. And by god, if <em>this </em>was what Magnus felt when he looked at Timo, then Berwald could hold him absolutely no ill will, because there was nothing else like it. Nothing on earth could ever come close.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was a drug, alright. One he was steadily realizing that he couldn't go on without. If Ludwig were ever lost again, he would tear the world apart to find him. The prospect of withdrawal was terrifying.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig leaned into the cushion a while later, eyes shutting and giving one last sigh, when he fell asleep there and his hands fell loose in his lap, Berwald just stared at him, and watched him breathe.</p>
  <p>In the morning, life went on, as it always did, and Berwald looked forward to each day, if only to see what new game it would bring. Every day, the looks Ludwig sent him became more fascinating.</p>
  <p>It occurred to him one night, as he lied on the couch and stared out of the window, that the word he had been searching for, for so long, was 'star-struck'. That might have been it.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig was around, he felt star-struck.</p>
  <p>Dazed.</p>
  <p>And he <em>wished</em>, more than anything, that he could find the courage to say it aloud.</p>
  <p>Wherever it was that Ludwig was leading him, however confusing the directions, however many times he got mixed up, he was pretty sure of one thing :</p>
  <p>He'd keep walkin' the road, and wouldn't even look over his shoulder, because whatever lied at the end of it was surely going to be damn well worth it. He could feel it.</p>
  <p>...maybe it <em>was </em>time for Lukas to take the couch. Just for a night. Or two.</p>
  <p>The more and more he thought about it, the more appealing it seemed, and the more he <em>regretted </em>not doing it—instead of hauling Ludwig off to bed that warm night, that he had acted upon that look Ludwig had sent him and had gathered up the courage to just lie down, and share the couch.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had always been patient with him, and needed to keep it up for a little longer.</p>
  <p>Because, one day, he would find the words to say it.</p>
  <p>Star-struck.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Port of Lonely Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 13</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Port of Lonely Hearts</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Fall.</p>
  <p>Leaves started drifting from the trees.</p>
  <p>They finally moved on, and left Estonia behind. Not because they had done their jobs successfully. It was only when Timo's friend had been gunned down, under Magnus' care, that the Forest Brothers suspended operations for a while, and they were no longer needed.</p>
  <p>Time to go.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had hoped they would return to Sweden, maybe to that little house on the beach where the cars sat idle, but Timo, seething in anger and wanting to <em>hurt</em>, led them straight up into Finland. Ludwig went dutifully along, because Berwald and Magnus followed Timo. Lukas followed Magnus.</p>
  <p>He followed Berwald.</p>
  <p>Crossing another border was terrifying, but it was easier going by land than by sea, even through the Soviet Union, when they went far enough into the forest. Just patches of scarcely protected barbed wire, search lights, and sometimes a couple of dogs, barking in the distance.</p>
  <p>Timo trashed through the land like a bulldozer, leaving quite a bit of destruction (and his comrades) behind him.</p>
  <p>For a while there, Timo had actually seemed to just <em>forget </em>about them, and they found themselves wandering around for a few days, stuck in some town on the outskirts of a city that none of them could navigate. Magnus and Berwald had stared up helplessly at the signs, all written in incomprehensible Finnish, and Lukas had been furiously studying a map that didn't seem to be of any help. Ludwig just looked back and forth down the streets, checked the compass every so often, and realized that, without Timo, they were all but lost.</p>
  <p>Lost.</p>
  <p>They roamed the streets, finding cheap motels to crash in at night, crammed into tiny, less than tidy quarters, and in the morning, they resumed their aimless walking, trying to figure out where Timo had gone off to.</p>
  <p>The bags were heavy as hell, and they had to stop once because Magnus just got so <em>angry</em> all of a sudden that he tossed down his bags, whirled around, and kicked the nearest building.</p>
  <p>Honestly, Ludwig couldn't really blame him for his outburst. Tempting, to say the least.</p>
  <p>They sat under a bridge afterwards, each of them looking very much like kids that had just run away from home, and Berwald stared off into the horizon, eyes squinted like he wanted to either implode or burst into tears.</p>
  <p>Magnus kicked rocks around and had chewed on his lip so much that it was bleeding.</p>
  <p>Lukas never complained or kicked anything like Magnus, but Ludwig found himself keeping a careful distance from him, because Lukas had started glaring at every little thing that came within range—passersby, dogs, women and children alike, hell, he'd sent a butterfly a foul look—and Ludwig was pretty sure that he was one little nudge away from hurting someone.</p>
  <p>Seething.</p>
  <p>Everyone was hungry, thirsty, and miserable. Reluctant to spend any of the little money they had for things that weren't absolutely necessary.</p>
  <p>The stubble on Lukas' cheeks was an odd sight, as neat as he always kept himself. Magnus was starting to look more than a little homeless.</p>
  <p>It was another two days after that before Timo actually thought to come back for them. When he came across them in the street, it was somehow Timo who glared at <em>them</em>, as if <em>they </em>had done something wrong, and it was only because they knew how upset he was that none of them punched him in the nose when he griped, loudly, 'Can't you keep up?'</p>
  <p>Berwald looked infuriated, ready to shred Timo to pieces at any second. Magnus looked sicker than ever; guilty, perhaps. Lukas was ruffled and irritable. Snappy. Unpleasant. Ludwig was just <em>tired</em>.</p>
  <p>Tired of wandering in unfriendly lands. Tired of carting rifles and bullets around. He was tired of never being able to stay in one place long enough to start calling it home.</p>
  <p>They followed Timo, into the wilderness, and when they finally reached their new lodgings, it didn't take long for the tense air to start crackling. For once, Ludwig was glad he didn't speak Swedish, because the way that Berwald startin' screaming at Timo a little while later was actually pretty scary. He hadn't ever heard Berwald lose his temper like that.</p>
  <p>Magnus, hard to believe, seemed to agree with every word Berwald was saying, and made no move to jump in. Lukas interjected every now and again, on Berwald's behalf.</p>
  <p>The way Timo looked at them all afterward...</p>
  <p>Kinda hurt. Like they had betrayed him, somehow, by not being as angry as he was. As if his friend should have meant more to them. Ludwig was sorry about it, he really was, but he couldn't really be bereft over the death of a man he hadn't known.</p>
  <p>Sorry.</p>
  <p>Timo stomped out afterwards, after a little bit of screaming of his own, and Ludwig found that he was more hurt by the way Magnus was staring at his feet, face scrunched up and biting his lip and looking like the very definition of miserable. Seeing Magnus like that was almost as bad as being lost had been.</p>
  <p>Berwald was the one to slam the door behind Timo, saying god only knew what, and Ludwig watched him pace around in a huff for a minute, before throwing himself down into a rickety chair and crossing his arms.</p>
  <p>This was the first time any of them had truly fought. Not something he was ever looking forward to again.</p>
  <p>A little while later, Magnus sat down on the floor, knees to his chest, and buried his face in his folded arms, muttering something incomprehensible. Lukas just sat there, one leg crossed over the other, and glowered out the window with pursed lips and dark eyes.</p>
  <p>Somehow, out of all of them, an angry Lukas was the most frightening. Lukas, who was never fazed by anything. Lukas, who was truly the most unpredictable. When Berwald and Magnus were mad, it was uncomfortable, but they would never have truly lashed out to hurt anyone. A couple of punches might have been thrown, but they'd never pull out a gun. Lukas, though...</p>
  <p>Who could say.</p>
  <p>Berwald's wrath dissipated a while later, and Ludwig could see, in the steady falling of his face, that he regretted whatever he had said.</p>
  <p>It wasn't really his fault.</p>
  <p>Timo didn't come back for a few days. In his absence, blind and helpless, all they could do was settle in.</p>
  <p>It was then that Ludwig realized how dependent everyone was on Timo. Berwald was the leader, sure, and everyone else had different skills, but Timo was unofficially the navigator, and every ship got lost when the navigator went missing.</p>
  <p>Stranded, on this shore.</p>
  <p>The place itself wasn't too bad, but Ludwig knew better than to even bother getting attached to it. Before long, right when he was settling in, they would be uprooted again. Made it hard to get excited, when he went out the backdoor and realized there was a lake in sight below. He just stared down at it from above, shoulders low and eyes feeling heavy, and even when Berwald came out and stood beside of him, he just couldn't seem to find his good mood.</p>
  <p>Up the slope on the other side of the house was a wooden shed, or, at least he thought it was, until Magnus seemed a little relieved to find what was apparently a dilapidated sauna. For all the good it would do. If this little place were in Sweden, Ludwig would have loved it the second he laid eyes on it. Out here, though, out in the middle of war-torn Finland...</p>
  <p>Seemed dangerous. Isolated, out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by forest. The dirt road into town was lined by tall pines, and it had actually been exceedingly unnerving, trekking up this drive and keeping a wary eye on the trees to make sure that no soldiers would come bursting out.</p>
  <p>This place wasn't safe.</p>
  <p>Maybe that was what Timo had intended.</p>
  <p>Better to stay inside whenever possible. The others seemed to agree. Magnus just stared out the window, eyeballing the wooden sauna longingly but never setting foot towards it. Berwald watched the lake from behind the safety of the glass, and just traced the gentle waves with his eyes. Lukas, still in a foul mood, had hardly come out into sight, and when Ludwig found him, he was putting together a bunch of bombs, and setting them aside.</p>
  <p>Mines.</p>
  <p>Whether Lukas intended to plant them or not had yet to be seen.</p>
  <p>This place.</p>
  <p>A bit bigger than the little shack in Estonia. At least here there were three beds. Very tiny and very shaggy, sinking so low under their weight that collapse was possible, but three all the same.</p>
  <p>No more sleeping on the couch for Berwald. Which was for the best, because there wasn't even a couch to be had. Just a few chairs, and a table that was lopsided.</p>
  <p>Not the best place in the world. Not the worst, perhaps.</p>
  <p>While Timo was gone, Ludwig shared a bed with Magnus, because Lukas was still frightening and Berwald was moody. Magnus wasn't too far away from being completely distraught at Timo's absence. Better to keep him company. In the mornings, though, when Berwald saw Ludwig and Magnus trudging out of the same room, it was like someone was trying to burn him with a lighter.</p>
  <p>That damn glare. Ouch.</p>
  <p>It would only be until Lukas stopped scarin' him or Timo came back. He knew that Berwald couldn't stand Magnus, but the poor guy hadn't done anything wrong. Berwald was moody, alright.</p>
  <p>In Timo's absence, Magnus all but clung to him, and Ludwig stayed with him, even knowing that doing so was likely setting the line back on whatever ground he had gained in Berwald's confidence. Well. He'd get over it. Once things settled and once Timo calmed down, everything would go back to normal. Berwald would just have to get over it.</p>
  <p>It wasn't as if Magnus was at fault, although, as far as Magnus was concerned, the whole thing <em>was</em> his fault. Eduard had been under his care. He blamed himself for Timo's recklessness, and it was more than unpleasant to see the constant shadow of darkness and sickness upon his face.</p>
  <p>It wasn't anybody's fault. They had all been responsible for those men.</p>
  <p>When Magnus sat down beside of him on the floor and pressed their heads together, when they started whispering away, when Magnus grabbed his hand, Berwald would just stand up, turn around, and stalk out of the room. Oh—if Berwald could <em>understand </em>what Magnus was saying, Ludwig was pretty sure he wouldn't have been so angry. Mournful statements. Endless worry. Magnus' worst fear was of Timo not coming back.</p>
  <p>But, eventually, Timo <em>did </em>come back, when tempers cooled off, and Ludwig was glad.</p>
  <p>Things settled down, at least a little. Lukas and Timo didn't speak to each other, and Berwald was a little stiff, but nobody punched or screamed, so that was probably as good as it was going to get for now.</p>
  <p>Magnus trailed after Timo, looking lost, and it was obvious that Magnus was worried that Timo had suddenly developed a death wish.</p>
  <p>Timo went out every day. No matter what. He was pressing his luck, they could all see it, and Berwald, who was trying to reclaim leadership over them, constantly attempted to thwart Timo's recklessness. To no avail. Timo wouldn't listen to him. Never really had, come to think.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could see it wearing on him, on all of them, and it was a testament of how tired everyone was when Berwald stood in front of the door one day, blocking Timo's path, and Magnus actually came to his side and completed the barricade. Berwald and Magnus, so exhausted that they had actually worked together for something.</p>
  <p>Lukas never attempted to thwart Timo, and neither did Ludwig. The way he saw it, it was Timo's decision whether or not to put himself in needless danger, and if it made him feel better about everything, then that was what he had to do. He was in no place to tell Timo his. These men knew the risks they took. Timo wasn't a child.</p>
  <p>Timo still got by them that day, and it was a little sad, to see the way that Berwald and Magnus looked at each other afterward, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy. They didn't speak, and were quick to part ways afterwards. The one time they had tried to worked together had failed as much as when they fought over something.</p>
  <p>Magnus just sat there by the front door, staring at it, and waited for Timo to come back.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked around, saw their situation, and couldn't help but feel a little helpless. He wanted to say, 'Let's just go out on our own, why don't we?' but he couldn't. They'd get lost, they'd get turned around, they'd wind up on the wrong side of the forest, and then they'd be dead.</p>
  <p>All they could do was wait for Timo to calm down and come to his senses.</p>
  <p>The days dragged like damn years.</p>
  <p>His mind was constantly on Berwald, and yet it seemed exceedingly inappropriate to carry on with shenanigans in the face of their current situation. If Timo got hurt, he'd feel pretty shitty about it.</p>
  <p>So, he waited.</p>
  <p>In the meantime, Ludwig found that Lukas was really starting to scare the hell out him.</p>
  <p>If you hadn't seen him, you wouldn't even know Lukas was there, he slunk around so much and was so silent. Christ almighty, it was as if someone had crept up into Lukas' head and set the clock so that the hour was constantly midnight. This was probably the Lukas a good few soldiers had seen before they died. Ludwig lied beside Magnus at night, stared up above, and couldn't help but wonder if Lukas was just planning on blowing the entire household to hell while they slept.</p>
  <p>He had nightmares about wires.</p>
  <p>The never-ending silence from Lukas was starting to get alarming to the point of being stifling, and, finally, Ludwig gathered up the courage to sit on the edge of the bed one evening, look over at Lukas, and say, honestly, "You're really creepin' me out, you know? Are you still mad?"</p>
  <p>Lukas was silent for a second, tying a cable, and when he looked up at Ludwig, it was like someone had flipped on a light-switch.</p>
  <p>The darkness was gone.</p>
  <p>Lukas' voice came out as silvery as it always had when he said, "I'm not now. Thanks for asking."</p>
  <p>...Lukas must have selectively chosen to ignore the first half of his comment.</p>
  <p>Huh. So fuckin' weird.</p>
  <p>Guess that frightening other half of him could be flipped off as easily as it could be flipped on. Better to keep that knowledge handy in case of a future emergency.</p>
  <p>After that, Lukas was back to normal (mostly), and finally said a word to Timo. Ludwig felt safe sharing the bed with him again. As safe as one could truly feel around Lukas, anyway.</p>
  <p>Days passed.</p>
  <p>The first time they all sat down together again, in an attempt to figure everything out, didn't go very well.</p>
  <p>Started off on the wrong foot when Timo, maybe not thinking about it or maybe doing it intentionally, started the conversation by standing up and speaking quite easily in Swedish. Ludwig hadn't said anything, but he had glowered awkwardly at his feet as Timo seemed quite happy to have this entire meeting without him.</p>
  <p>Damn.</p>
  <p>Maybe whatever Timo was thinking about doing was something that he was worried Ludwig wouldn't be able to pull off. He had thought he had proven himself by now, but maybe Timo was still just in a bad mood and felt like hurting Ludwig a little since Ludwig had stayed silent when everyone else had ganged up on him.</p>
  <p>Still stung a little.</p>
  <p>Timo was quite content to carry on with the conversation, until Berwald finally looked up, brow low and looking irritable, and opened his mouth. What he said was not quite what Ludwig expected.</p>
  <p>"Speak in German, won't ya? We work together or not at all."</p>
  <p>Timo sent Berwald a testy look, but changed languages all the same.</p>
  <p>Oh. He <em>loved </em>Berwald. He was sure of it.</p>
  <p>"<em>Anyway</em>," Timo began, snippily, "As I was saying—"</p>
  <p>Ludwig couldn't help but feel a little irritated, too, and didn't really listen to Timo even though he had started speaking in German. Hell, none of this was <em>his </em>fault.</p>
  <p>Everyone had been in such a bad mood lately.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, though, he felt like a fifth wheel. They had been well settled together before he had come along, and maybe they had been a little better for it. Common goals and languages. Ludwig hadn't fit in with them as well as they had fit in with each other. Trying to shove a square through a circle, maybe.</p>
  <p>He glanced up, found himself ogling Berwald as he usually did, and quickly lost his train of thought.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell, if they were better off before he came, then that was just too damn bad. They'd brought him here, and here he was.</p>
  <p>Goddamn, Berwald's open collar was distracting him. Timo's lips kept on a'movin', but if he was really speaking then Ludwig didn't get the message. How long had it been now that he had actually touched Berwald? Too long, certainly.</p>
  <p>Berwald's stern brow lifted, a little, as they stared at each other, and Ludwig didn't hear a single word that Timo said in the good half-hour that he spoke. When Berwald was looking at him, everything on the outside was little more than blah, blah, blah.</p>
  <p>Actually, the next time he seemed to get his brain really working, it was three days later and Timo had given up trying to cajole them into starting their own little war.</p>
  <p>Guess he didn't know that Ludwig already <em>had </em>declared war, but on a person rather than a country. His campaign was already well underway. Putting the flag into Berwald's back was his primary goal now.</p>
  <p>A few days later, Timo brought more people into their house—their home, as it was—and it was clear that Timo was planning on wreaking havoc on the Reds whether his friends wanted to help him or not.</p>
  <p>There were women in this group, armed as much as the men, and Lukas eyeballed a few of them from time to time, sometimes opening his mouth as if to speak, and deciding in the end that his wires were more important. Probably for the best; as shaky as Timo and Lukas were now, Timo probably would have ruined any attempt Lukas made on one of the girls.</p>
  <p>Ludwig would rather not have that switch flipped again, but was actually close to devastated, because he would have given all of his earthly possessions for the chance to see someone as insane as Lukas flirting. Would have sold his soul to see how Lukas would have tried to make a pass. Oh, well. Next time.</p>
  <p>Anyway, from the way this particular group looked at them, it was likely that Timo hadn't said many kind words about any of them, and if Lukas had tried to saddle up to one of the girls, she probably would have scoffed and scooted away. Maybe they had been described, in a fit of anger, as cowards.</p>
  <p>Hardly.</p>
  <p>There was a line between being a hero and being a maniac, and Timo might have accidentally crossed it without noticing. The others liked helping, sure they did, they liked fighting oppression, but they also liked being alive. Ludwig especially. So, let Timo bad-mouth them for now. Wouldn't get <em>him </em>out of this house any faster.</p>
  <p>Timo had started driving up to roadblocks intentionally with his friends, just so that he could pull out a gun instead of an identification from his wallet. Soon, this whole fuckin' town was going to be raided because of him, and everyone else would pay the price. Catastrophe seemed eerily imminent. Timo was going to get one or all of them killed.</p>
  <p>It was kind of sad, in a way, that sitting within the confines of this house was essentially as dangerous as stepping foot into that forest had been. Not knowing, when they lied down to sleep, if soldiers would track them down and knock down the door.</p>
  <p>When Timo calmed down and started thinking again, then Ludwig would go wherever he wanted to.</p>
  <p>But not right now.</p>
  <p>Outside, the forests were red and gold. The wind grew colder.</p>
  <p>When he finally started to get used to this house, and since this place was just as dangerous as Estonia or even more so, Ludwig decided that he may as well take right back up where he had left off. The flag wasn't getting any higher up the mountain with him just sitting there. He had gotten off track, with Timo being so volatile. Whatever Timo did was scary, yeah, and the thought of Timo getting hurt or killed was enough to keep him up at night, but, that being said, his world did not revolve around Timo. It revolved around Berwald, and Berwald was still very much in sight.</p>
  <p>It made him a pretty bad person, but that was just how life was.</p>
  <p>One morning, when Ludwig woke up, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and realized that he felt like tormenting Berwald.</p>
  <p>Back to normal, then.</p>
  <p>So he went about the day, as the others tried to find their new normals here, and he took quite a bit of pride in being able to flick pieces of bread at Berwald's head when the others weren't looking. The first time, Berwald had started upright in his seat, turned his eyes this way and that before realizing who the culprit was, and had just furrowed his brow and shook his head.</p>
  <p>The second time, Berwald lowered his head to make it less of a target. Bullshit; from one sniper to another, Berwald should have known better than that. The third time, Berwald had lowered his head so far down that his nose nearly dipped into his coffee. The shadow on his face was ever lightening. Couldn't really seem to get much of a smile out of him this time, though. Just gentle glares of irritation, like Berwald was trying to be patient with a little kid, but maybe there was a little less stress upon his face.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried harder.</p>
  <p>By the end of breakfast, Berwald was practically sitting in a pile of crumbs, shaking his hair about like a dog to free it of as much debris as possible, but he looked a little less gloomy for it.</p>
  <p>Lukas, as he stood up to leave, reached out and brushed Berwald's hair free of a rogue crumb, saying, 'You're being messy this morning, Berwald. Eat a little slower next time.'</p>
  <p>For a second there, Ludwig thought Berwald gave a little bit of a twitching smile.</p>
  <p>Almost.</p>
  <p>The day passed into a chilly night, and they found themselves without Timo yet again. Magnus, maybe to keep himself from going crazy, dared himself to actually go outside and up into the wooden bathhouse above. He found a few interesting things stashed away, furniture and household items, and it gave them something to do that night. Lukas was happy to dust off a little loveseat and try to get it clean enough to sit on.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked up at one point to realize that Berwald had gone missing.</p>
  <p>He tracked him down easily enough.</p>
  <p>Berwald sat on the bed in one of the rooms, staring down blankly at the floor, and he didn't really seem to know that Ludwig was there until he shut the door and plopped on the bed. Poor thing nearly collapsed beneath the weight of them. Pretty sure a spring had popped somewhere.</p>
  <p>No messin' around in <em>these </em>beds, that was for sure.</p>
  <p>Ha. Yeah, right—like that was happening anytime soon. Couldn't even get Berwald to share the bed with him yet, let alone use it.</p>
  <p>When he looked over, he could see the exhaustion on Berwald's face, the melancholy, and put aside his wandering thoughts.</p>
  <p>"Feelin' alright?" he asked, reaching out to nudge Berwald's shoulder with his own, and it was rather disheartening when Berwald just shook his head.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>"Worried about Timo?"</p>
  <p>There was a short silence, as Berwald gathered his thoughts, and it seemed as if he was struggling with how to word his feelings as he said, slowly, "I should be able to keep him in line. I try to get him to listen, but he won't. He doesn't take me seriously. None of 'em do. Everyone just does what they want."</p>
  <p>Helpless.</p>
  <p>Berwald was losing control of them, assuming that he had ever really had control in the first place, and Timo breaking the chain to go off on his own was exceedingly threatening to Berwald's authority. And, honestly, everyone sort of <em>did </em>do what they wanted. No plan, no communication.</p>
  <p>Dangerous.</p>
  <p>Hell, even Berwald broke his own rules, as he had when he had trekked back into that forest.</p>
  <p>Together, they were all great as friends, great as roommates, great as refugees.</p>
  <p>As rebels, as freedom fighters (or whatever they liked to call themselves at any given time), as militants, then they were not so great anymore. They couldn't ever seem to agree. They couldn't agree on a set of ground rules. They couldn't agree on where to go. They couldn't agree on where to stay. They couldn't agree on what their plan of action was.</p>
  <p>Even when Ludwig had been held prisoner in the back of their fuckin' car they hadn't been able to agree on what to do with him.</p>
  <p>They weren't exactly a shining example of wartime cooperation. They wouldn't win any medals for working together anytime soon, that was certain. It could have been a damn <em>egg </em>sitting before them, and Berwald would have said boil it, Ludwig would say fry it, Timo would say poach it, Magnus would say scramble it, and Lukas would have wanted to turn it into a goddamn missile.</p>
  <p>A little strife was a good thing, maybe, but they were all kinda crazy.</p>
  <p>"One day," Berwald suddenly muttered, "I think everyone's just gonna go out one day and not come back. One day, we're just gonna get sick of each other and split up. It'd be my fault."</p>
  <p>If it ever did happen, it wouldn't be Berwald's fault. It would be all of theirs, for not being able to cast aside pride and ego for the sake of cooperation. He should have offered a word of support, perhaps, or maybe he should have tried to reinforce Berwald's confidence as leader.</p>
  <p>Instead, when he finally spoke, he said, "So! Let 'em go, if they want. That means it would just be me and you. That sounds nice, doesn't it?"</p>
  <p>Yeah, it did. To him at least.</p>
  <p>Berwald looked over at him, and Ludwig thought that Berwald would have looked a little happy. He was surprised, and maybe a little guilty, to see that Berwald suddenly looked like he coulda burst into tears. Maybe the thought of everything he had built crashing down had been a step too far for Berwald. Losing the only friends he had ever seemed to have.</p>
  <p>Feeling mortified, Ludwig twisted at the waist, repositioned his weight, and meant to say something that would reaffirm Berwald's confidence. As he moved, another threatening creak of a spring beneath them was sharp in the silence.</p>
  <p>Berwald looked down at the bed, reproachfully.</p>
  <p>The bed sank a little lower, and, for whatever reason, Ludwig couldn't really help but start laughing.</p>
  <p>Too many things running through his head.</p>
  <p>The dumb thought that had flashed before his eyes, of finally getting Berwald and dragging him into the bed only to have it collapse in the middle of something fun with a crash, and the others running into the bedroom in a fright, thinking they were under attack, only to see them sticking out of springs and split beams in a compromising position. How Berwald's face might have looked, when the others turned bright red and shielded their eyes (well, except for maybe that weirdo Lukas, who might have leered away with wide eyes and gawked at them quite happily), how Berwald's voice might have sounded, had he shrieked at them to get out while throwing a shoe at the door.</p>
  <p>Oh, god. Something was fucked up in his head, that much was certain.</p>
  <p>This damn bed.</p>
  <p>He couldn't stop laughing.</p>
  <p>Berwald eyed him for a second, and then pulled off his glasses. A stifled moan of mingled frustration and trying not to cry and maybe trying not to start laughing, too. Clenching his glasses in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other, Berwald just gave a short scoff, and then said, thickly, "I think ya broke my bed."</p>
  <p>Ludwig kept on laughing, god help him, and then he grabbed Berwald's head with his hand, pulled him in, and placed a firm, friendly kiss on Berwald's temple.</p>
  <p>...maybe he had meant it to be a little more than friendly. Berwald didn't seem to get that, though, and just sat there for a while before leaning against him. Still, Ludwig let his hand fall to Berwald's shoulder, and kept it there.</p>
  <p>He didn't get Berwald to laugh that night, but maybe by the end he felt a little better. Less stressed about the whole thing.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had meant it, though. Even if every single one of them were to leave, he'd still follow Berwald, wherever it was that Berwald wanted to go.</p>
  <p>For war, or anything else.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>The next morning, Ludwig went outside, at dawn, and saw Lukas trudging out of the forest with a basket.</p>
  <p>Innocent enough.</p>
  <p>When they passed, Ludwig looked down, and saw a stash of forest berries.</p>
  <p>"Didn't invite me, huh?" was all he had said, then, and he had half a mind to wander around a little himself.</p>
  <p>He took a step, meaning to walk within the first trees of the misty forest, not too far at all, and yet he was stopped when Lukas snatched out and grabbed his wrist. A tight, painful, inescapable grip.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked back at him, saw the alarmingly blank look on Lukas' face, and when Lukas just shook his head, Ludwig quickly backtracked. It didn't take him long to figure out why. The basket was full of berries now, sure, but it had been full of something else when Lukas had stepped into the forest to begin with. Lukas dragged him back to the house, and Ludwig went without a struggle.</p>
  <p>Couldn't even walk down to the edge of the lake now, had he wanted to. Not without knowing where to step.</p>
  <p>He spent hours moping.</p>
  <p>This place was <em>so </em>pretty, and that made it all the worse that he couldn't really enjoy it.</p>
  <p>He came out of his room, later, and saw a paper taped up. Lukas had put an alarmingly detailed drawing of his garden upon the wall. Ludwig spent a damn good few hours staring at it and memorizing every single line, because stepping on one of Lukas' flowers was a death-sentence. Quite literally.</p>
  <p>Berwald's brow was so crinkled now that it never came up anymore, and when Ludwig caught him staring at the drawing, the slumping of his shoulders was apparent.</p>
  <p>It was better not to step foot outside unless absolutely necessary. Timo copied the map, and took it to his friends.</p>
  <p>The day seemed long, dreary, and rather moody. Lukas kept to himself, Berwald held a very intense staring contest with the wall, Magnus curled on the loveseat and buried his face in the cushion, Timo was gone like always, and Ludwig cleaned his rifle about ten times before Magnus finally got up and took it from him in agitation.</p>
  <p>Feeling helpless.</p>
  <p>Didn't get better, either.</p>
  <p>That night, one of Lukas' flowers was set off.</p>
  <p>It had to be the first night. Just had to be. The stillness of this isolated place, suddenly shattered by a distant explosion. Birds, fleeing in great flocks overhead. The lake rippled. And they waited and waited, huddled together in the kitchen and waiting for an ambush, but there were never any screams within the forest, never the discharge of a gun, and no soldiers came bursting through the door.</p>
  <p>After a while, it was listed off an as unfortunate critter that had put its foot down somewhere it shouldn't have.</p>
  <p>The mood was foul again all the same.</p>
  <p>Berwald sat in one of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other, and stared out of the window. Ludwig waited patiently, and by the time the others finally went to bed, Berwald had set his glasses aside, and was holding his temples in his hands. Misery.</p>
  <p>Ludwig took a step, and came to rest behind the chair, putting his hands down on the top of the rickety wood. It creaked, like everything else in the house did.</p>
  <p>"Head hurting?"</p>
  <p>Berwald kept his head bowed, and just gave a quick nod. Ludwig was kind of glad he didn't look up, because if Berwald was squinting his eyes because he was trying not to cry in frustration, then that was something he didn't really want to see.</p>
  <p>It was frightening, sometimes, to sit there and actually think about how quickly something could go wrong. How you could wake up to a normal morning and then be dead by the end of the day.</p>
  <p>In this place, thinking was almost unwelcome.</p>
  <p>"Want some medicine?" he asked, and Berwald didn't answer.</p>
  <p>He knew, then, that it wasn't a headache that had Berwald looking so sick.</p>
  <p>There was a silence in which he tried to think of something to say, but in the end he decided that speaking was overrated. Nothing he had ever really been good at anyway. So he reached out, grabbed Berwald's shoulders (oh, man, was that a great feeling—firm muscles beneath his hands), and it only took a second for Berwald to drop his head in compliance.</p>
  <p>Everyone was tired, and nobody on the face of the earth had ever refused a free massage when it was offered.</p>
  <p>Not a word was said between them as Ludwig started kneading, and he found himself waiting for a hand to rise up or for Berwald to mutter something, but it never happened.</p>
  <p>Damn.</p>
  <p>He lifted his hands to the back of Berwald's neck, fell still for a second, and he thought about grabbing handfuls of Berwald's hair to yank his head back and kiss him. In the end, he decided not to. Now might not have been the right time. Berwald looked a little agitated. He bit down on the urge, kept his hands very much on Berwald's shoulders, and let the minutes tick by.</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>In the end, Berwald looked better, but Ludwig felt worse.</p>
  <p>He didn't <em>get</em> it—he'd been setting out the roadmap. He'd been lighting up the flares and setting them on the path. Hell, he had practically turned Berwald around, showed him the road, and shoved him on down it.</p>
  <p>And yet, still, Berwald had made no move. No receptiveness. No sign of really even understanding. Had he not been obvious enough? Was he going to have to sit there and actually spell it out?</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't seem to comprehend.</p>
  <p>Not once, in the time that Ludwig's hands had been on his neck and shoulders, had Berwald reached up with his own hand. Not once had he tilted his head back. Maybe...</p>
  <p>No. He just needed to try harder. He needed to make it more obvious, if that was somehow possible, because the thought of Berwald just not being interested was too hard to swallow.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't stupid, but he didn't really seem to have much common sense, either.</p>
  <p>He was probably going to have to whirl Berwald around one day and hold up a sign with big, bold letters that read, 'I am in love with you,' because that was likely the only way Berwald would get the hint. And it would have to be '<em>in </em>love with you', because knowing Berwald, just an 'I love you' would be misconstrued with 'We're best friends'. If he had actually kissed Berwald, Berwald might have wandered off and thought to himself, 'Germans sure are friendly!'</p>
  <p>Good god almighty, Gilbert had made this look so fuckin' <em>easy</em>. Beating this message though Berwald's thick skull was anything but.</p>
  <p>Berwald trudged off into his bedroom later on, and Ludwig just walked away that night, thoroughly disappointed at the lack of anything, and roamed the house restlessly.</p>
  <p>He wound up on the porch, somehow, and sat there for a while.</p>
  <p>Stars overhead. Waves on the lake in the wind. The trees swayed back and forth.</p>
  <p>The flag was still very much at the base of the mountain rather than the peak.</p>
  <p>When he went back inside, cold and yet feeling a little calmer for it all, he walked in on an exceedingly personal moment. Somewhere, in those hours, Timo and Magnus had gone into the kitchen, and seemed to be having some kind of conversation. He could see them from the door, but they didn't seem aware of him, cast in shadow as he was around the corner, and carried on completely unaware. He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't help it :</p>
  <p>He stayed, and watched.</p>
  <p>To see them interact, to see how bold people like Timo and Magnus did it, was far too great an opportunity to pass up.</p>
  <p>He kept trying so hard, <em>so </em>hard, and yet Berwald still hadn't smiled at him like Timo smiled at Magnus. He must have been doing something wrong. Magnus was an expert, or at least he looked like one.</p>
  <p>It quickly became apparent, however, that what he was witnessing might not have been something he wanted to, after all.</p>
  <p>Timo sat in a chair, and Magnus was standing in front of him, staring down at him and speaking quietly. Timo wouldn't seem to look up at him. Magnus' voice, so often loud and bold, was soft. Trembling. Ludwig didn't understand the words, not a one, but he understood clearly the look on Magnus' face, as he fell to his knees before the stern, foul Timo, and pleaded. Proud, belligerent Magnus, on his knees and the verge of tears.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could imagine the words he was saying.</p>
  <p>'Please, stop going out. Stop pressing your luck. I get <em>so </em>worried about you.'</p>
  <p>Timo just sat there, arms crossed and staring at the wall, and he didn't say a word, and he didn't acknowledge Magnus' presence. Magnus bowed his head then, under Timo's silence, and Ludwig knew that he had started crying, even if he tried hard not to show it. Something he couldn't say he had ever wanted to see. Magnus crying was almost as alarming as if it had been Berwald.</p>
  <p>The way those two were.</p>
  <p>Hard breathing, as Magnus tried so hard to keep himself together, and finally, Timo turned his head, and looked down at him. The look on Timo's face was rather frightening. A bit of melancholy, a bit of fondness, but far too much resignation. Too much of a shadow.</p>
  <p>What he muttered, then, was somehow something that Ludwig could only imagine was, 'I love you, I really do, but I just love Finland more.'</p>
  <p>Magnus sat there for what felt like hours, although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and then he pulled himself to his feet, and trudged off. Timo sat there, and stared out of the window. As soon as Magnus was out of sight, his face fell as much as Magnus' had, and he looked just as miserable. Didn't change the fact that he had hurt Magnus.</p>
  <p>Ludwig slunk off from his hiding spot, silently as he could, and started off for his bed, head low and lips pursed. His head hurt, his brain was suddenly thinking so many things at once.</p>
  <p>With these men, maybe nothing could compete with the countries they fought for. Magnus gave everything to Timo, but Timo gave everything to Finland. Lukas may have looked at women but never offered his hand, because his hands were always full with Norway.</p>
  <p>He and Magnus seemed to be the only ones that had put value on a single person rather than an ideal. He would have given his life easily for Berwald, not so much these poor annexed countries, and Magnus would have let Denmark and Finland burn if it would have kept Timo safe.</p>
  <p>It was a bit hurtful, to think that perhaps Berwald would have put Ludwig second to the cause that he was fighting for. That maybe Berwald would have turned his head away, if Ludwig ever pleaded like Magnus had.</p>
  <p>He went to bed, lied down carefully next to Lukas, and put his hands behind his head.</p>
  <p>He was getting restless. Thinking too much about these things.</p>
  <p>Timo would die for Finland, but Magnus still followed him all the same. If he wanted Berwald, then maybe it had gone without saying all along that he was running the risk of being second to something else. And he did want Berwald, so it had been obvious all along that certain sacrifices needed to be made. He'd still follow Berwald, if ever Berwald said that a country came before Ludwig did.</p>
  <p>That night, as Lukas slept away, feet twitching in the midst of a dream, Ludwig stared at the ceiling, and let his mind whir away.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell. Why not? Not like he hadn't been thinking about it.</p>
  <p>Turning his head and taking a long, hard look at Lukas, he finally gathered up his courage, sat up, and tossed his feet over the edge. When he opened the door, he knew exactly where he was going, and this time he didn't second-guess himself.</p>
  <p>Soon, Berwald's door was looming out before him in the moonlight.</p>
  <p>Ludwig thought about knocking, but he decided that additional noise was unnecessary. Berwald was asleep, anyhow, or at least by all rights he should have been. He grabbed the handle, turned it, and pushed the door open. Berwald was asleep, alright, but not peacefully. Tossing. Quiet, muffled moaning. Berwald had so many nightmares. As many as Ludwig had, perhaps.</p>
  <p>Carefully, he came forward and stood by the edge of the bed, leaning forward and settling himself onto the mattress as slowly as possible.</p>
  <p>The bed could support him and Lukas. It could support Timo and Magnus. Him and Timo. Timo and Lukas. It had barely survived him and Magnus, and probably couldn't withstand the combined weight of him and Berwald, but he sure as hell was gonna try anyway.</p>
  <p>Squeaking of springs and the ominous groaning of wood.</p>
  <p>It held, somehow, as he crawled in and lied down, although every time he turned the mattress seemed to sink ever lower.</p>
  <p>He pulled the blanket up to his neck, flipped himself onto his side, reached down, and grabbed Berwald's hand. A deep, gasping sigh, as Berwald came slowly out of the realm of sleep. It took a moment for him to realize what was going on, and when he looked over and finally saw Ludwig beside of him, there was another deep intake of breath. Surprise.</p>
  <p>A low, scratchy whisper.</p>
  <p>"What're ya doin'?"</p>
  <p>"Breaking the bed the rest'a the way."</p>
  <p>The sheen of cold-sweat was visible upon Berwald's brow, in the dim moonlight, and so was the pulse hammering in his neck. By now, Berwald had no doubt felt the hand around his own, but he didn't say a word. If anything, come to think, his grip had been returned, although that might have been a subconscious action.</p>
  <p>They stared at each other for a while, and then there was a low inquiry.</p>
  <p>"Ya gonna sleep here?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig would have smiled if he weren't feeling so melancholy, and asked back, "Can I?"</p>
  <p>Berwald just gave a deep, "Uh-huh."</p>
  <p>Good enough.</p>
  <p>They fell still, and Ludwig was glad that Berwald hadn't taken his hand back and shifted position. Berwald's hand was calloused. Warm. Strong fingers.</p>
  <p>The veil of sleep starting creeping down, and the agitation of unpleasant thoughts turned into a mellow lethargy.</p>
  <p>Berwald's sleepy eyes opened again, and he said, quite out of nowhere, "You have nightmares, too."</p>
  <p>Ludwig met his bleary gaze, and nodded his head. How had he known? Maybe it was because they had something in common they shouldn't have. The hands they clasped now were covered in blood.</p>
  <p>Berwald shut his eyes again, and went quiet.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wanted to ask, 'Would you stop fighting, if I asked you to?'</p>
  <p>He didn't. He was afraid of the answer. In his mind, he already knew what it was.</p>
  <p>'No.'</p>
  <p>He lied there all night, Berwald's hand firmly within his own, and it was the first time in his life that he felt <em>right</em>. He'd go to hell and back, he'd defy the entire world, the gods themselves, to keep it going. Anything to keep this feeling. He'd do anything to keep Berwald. No country on the face of the planet could have ever meant more to him than this man. Not Denmark, not Finland, not Norway, not Sweden. Not even the Germany he had once loved enough to die for.</p>
  <p>Berwald came first.</p>
  <p>To not be lonely anymore.</p>
  <p>When Berwald had fallen asleep again, Ludwig leaned forward, silently, and kissed him upon the forehead.</p>
  <p>If Berwald put him second, then that was just something he would have to learn to live with, like Magnus did. Assuming he could get the dumb bastard in the first place.</p>
  <p>Giving up? Ha. Not <em>him</em>. Just needed a new plan, was all.</p>
  <p>Well, poking the bull hadn't worked. Guess it was time to bring out the red flag.</p>
  <p>Berwald sure did hate Magnus.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Devil's Right Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 14</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Devil's Right Hand </strong>
  </p>
  <p>Timo's wrath finally calmed, and his outings decreased.</p>
  <p>Berwald was glad, but felt it had taken too long. Timo had put them all in danger, having no care that his desire for revenge would hurt those around him. Hard to stay mad at him, though, when it was easy to understand how much it must have hurt him to see it all happening. How it must have felt to see a friend gunned down right in front of him. To see his home, under an iron foot. The need to get even a little.</p>
  <p>Timo was getting over it, slowly but surely.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't remember having ever been so worried in his entire life as he was in this place. Every time he looked at the door, he wondered how long it would be before unfriendly faces stood on the other side. How long it would take before another mine was set off. How long it would be before the glass shattered, as a bullet took out one of the windows.</p>
  <p>He worried about everyone, he worried about everything, he worried about Timo courting death, he worried being found out, he worried about the town being raided, but, god help him...</p>
  <p>Kinda hard to keep his mind on it all the time when his bed wasn't empty.</p>
  <p>Probably made him a terrible person, to let his mind get sidetracked so easily, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't focus. Not when Ludwig was next to him.</p>
  <p>It wasn't an every night event. Every night with both of them crammed into that poor bed might have eventually put them on the floor, so Ludwig only crept in once or twice a week. Maybe that was all he could manage without Lukas asking questions. Ludwig, bold as he was though, probably would have just said, had Lukas asked, 'Yeah, I'm sleepin' with Berwald tonight. See you tomorrow.'</p>
  <p>Berwald would rather have had Ludwig beside of him every passing second, even more than every night.</p>
  <p>That first night, he had been too stunned by the notion to raise up his arm and throw it over Ludwig's shoulder, let alone try to form words. He remembered, vaguely, waking up at some point in the night, and scooting himself closer to Ludwig. He opened his mouth, lifted his head, and had meant to say, 'Can we share the bed from now on?'</p>
  <p>Ludwig's deep breathing and closed eyes had cut him short.</p>
  <p>Ah, who was he kidding? Even if Ludwig had been awake, he still would have choked.</p>
  <p>All the same, it had been nice enough just having company.</p>
  <p>The next morning had gone as normally as every other, although he wouldn't lie and say that he hadn't been on cloud nine and jittery the whole day. He had thought that another border had been passed that night between them, that maybe Ludwig would start making bolder moves now, and yet...</p>
  <p>Three weeks since then, though, and now things had become a little different.</p>
  <p>Different.</p>
  <p>He couldn't really put his finger on it, not exactly, but it was painfully obvious that Ludwig and Magnus had started spending more time together. And they had always spend an <em>exorbitant </em>amount of time together, so now it seemed that every time Berwald looked up, Magnus was stuck to Ludwig's side.</p>
  <p>Couldn't say why.</p>
  <p>But he knew that it irritated the hell out of him.</p>
  <p>He couldn't figure it out. It was like Ludwig had just woken up one morning and decided that Magnus was better company than Berwald. He had gotten so used to Ludwig hovering over him every second these past months that it actually kinda hurt to see him doing the same to someone else. It had felt better when he had been certain <em>he </em>was the center of Ludwig's universe.</p>
  <p>...egotistical, maybe, perhaps a bit selfish, but he had wanted Ludwig to keep paying attention to <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>Everyone else, on the other hand, seemed rather content nowadays, and that irritated him, too, because he felt that they should have been more in tune with his mood.</p>
  <p>Yeah, sure, Magnus and Ludwig were always smiling, practically on top of each other every five minutes, motherfuckers, but he couldn't figure out why Timo was smiling with them. What the hell did <em>he </em>have to smile about? And Lukas— Well. Lukas was just Lukas. He didn't count because he always seemed to be in the same mood.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself brooding most days now, barely engaging himself in daily activities. He picked at his food in the morning, sat alone on the back porch in the afternoon, and cleaned his rifle alone in the corner at night. Hard to do otherwise.</p>
  <p>He picked at his food in the morning because he could barely lift his eyes up for fear of seeing Magnus and Ludwig butting heads and whispering to each other. He sat alone on the porch in the afternoon because Magnus and Ludwig spent the day roughhousing and teasing each other inside like kids. He cleaned his rifle alone in the corner at night because Magnus and Ludwig shared the dusty loveseat to clean their guns.</p>
  <p>His head had started hurting the other day and hadn't fuckin' stopped since. His mood had turned foul. Every minute of every day was spent glowering at the walls and plotting ways he could make Magnus look like a damn idiot and get Ludwig's attention back.</p>
  <p>Childish? Sure, but he'd acted far worse than childish in years past. Magnus should have counted himself lucky that he hadn't found himself on the end of Berwald's crosshairs yet. If the son of a bitch kept on touching Ludwig, though...</p>
  <p>He sat at the kitchen table, one afternoon, brooding as usual, and hardly noticed that Lukas had stopped in front of him.</p>
  <p>Only a poke in his shoulder got him to look up.</p>
  <p>Lukas sent him a lopsided sneer, and said, suddenly, "Berwald, can you go out to the back and try to find the brush and bucket? This place is gettin' dirty again."</p>
  <p>"Sure," he grumbled, because he was bored and agitated, and cleaning would be better than moping.</p>
  <p>So he stood up, banged open the backdoor so hard that he was pretty sure he broke it, and started the trek up the hill to the ruined sauna where everything was stored.</p>
  <p>His mind was always somewhere else.</p>
  <p>He reached the top, grabbed the bucket that was by the side of the bathhouse, put out his hand, and pushed open the door without thought in search of the brush. Steam was the first thing he noticed, and, fuckin' Christ, he shoulda known better than to ever listen to Lukas, because when the puff of steam cleared, what he saw was enough to actually make him gasp aloud. When was the last time he had gasped? Couldn't even remember.</p>
  <p>Magnus had been out here for a few days now, messin' around inside, but Berwald hadn't actually ever thought he'd start usin' this damn thing, let alone convince Ludwig to join, oh god.</p>
  <p>He caught a quick glimpse of Magnus and Ludwig, standing up and apparently in the middle of a bath, soaking wet and flushed red with the heat, and he was so <em>grateful</em>, beyond anything, that he had caught them before the towels at their waists had decided to drop.</p>
  <p>Well! Well—wouldn't lie and say that seeing Ludwig like that was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Not nearly naked as he was, covered in steam and hair darker in the water, standing very much exposed. Maybe the towel dropping wouldn't have been so bad, after all.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was a soldier, alright.</p>
  <p>He'd glimpsed muscle beneath thin shirts and he'd been on the wrong end of Ludwig's wrath, but actually being able to see was a little different. It was easy to look at Ludwig and think of him as a kid when he was sitting there easily on the couch, clothed and relaxed and off-guard. 'Kid' wasn't exactly the first word that popped into mind though when Ludwig's physical physique was out in the open. Especially since the kid was in better shape than <em>he</em> was.</p>
  <p>Strong thighs. Stronger arms. Firm stomach and wide chest. Muscle everywhere.</p>
  <p>A trail of pale hair led down to his bellybutton.</p>
  <p>No doubt, however, that Ludwig would have been more impressive still months earlier, when he had been fresh out of the army. Out here, he hadn't been doing much in the way of physical labor, and being a sniper wasn't really considered exercise. All the same, there probably wasn't a limb of Ludwig's that couldn't have killed someone.</p>
  <p>Damn! He had let himself loose a little in these past years, and seein' Ludwig would have made him self-conscious if he hadn't been pretty damn mesmerized. Stupefied. The first time he'd seen Ludwig without the majority of his clothing. Worse things, that much was certain. Wouldn't cry about it if he had nightmares about <em>this </em>humiliation any time soon.</p>
  <p>Magnus' mug kinda ruined the scenery, though. Coulda gone the rest of his life without seeing the bastard naked.</p>
  <p>A long silence, as his brain tried to wake up again.</p>
  <p>Magnus had dumped soap in Ludwig's hair and was scrubbing away.</p>
  <p>Shock.</p>
  <p>He remembered the bucket slipping from his fingers, and he remembered the horrific burn upon his face, and he was pretty sure that he remembered whirling around and raising a mortified hand to his forehead. Oh, <em>god</em>. Fuckin' Lukas was a dead man when he got back in there and grabbed his throat—</p>
  <p>"You okay?"</p>
  <p>Far too loudly and far too stiffly, Berwald cried, "I'm sorry!"</p>
  <p>A short silence, as Ludwig was no doubt staring at him in confusion, and then he asked, "For what?"</p>
  <p>Hard to say.</p>
  <p>It must have seemed strange to Ludwig, who had no doubt spent a great deal of time in less than private scenarios with his fellow soldiers, the way that Berwald had responded. And Magnus and Lukas no doubt had little qualms about stripping down in front of someone else, and Timo didn't, either. He might have been the only one here who would react with embarrassment. Hell, Ludwig hadn't even been naked—Berwald might have keeled over dead if he had been.</p>
  <p>Not a death he would have lamented, to be fair. His gravestone would have read, 'I died, but it was absolutely worth it.'</p>
  <p>He could hear Magnus behind, voice low and trembling as he struggled against the urge to laugh, as he muttered away to Ludwig in their private dialect.</p>
  <p>Mortification mingled with something else. Something that burned and was exceedingly unpleasant, yes, but he wasn't going to call it jealousy. Had to be another name for it. All the same, when he reached down to grab the bucket again, it took an inhuman amount of restraint to keep himself from whirling around again and chucking the bucket right at Magnus' head.</p>
  <p>Tempting.</p>
  <p>Magnus suddenly burst into laughter, and Berwald finally talked himself into glancing back.</p>
  <p>Magnus was leering away at him, teeth nearly stuck to his lip as he eyed Berwald lazily, and Ludwig had arched his neck back, chin tucked low as he studied Berwald curiously.</p>
  <p>As if he were thinking, 'Jeez, what's <em>your </em>problem?'</p>
  <p>If Ludwig was attempting to communicate with him, it fell on deaf ears. He didn't understand. Only one thing was exceedingly obvious to him; Magnus' fuckin' fingers, still scrubbing away roughly in Ludwig's hair. Every one of them seemed perfectly breakable suddenly.</p>
  <p>It wasn't the steam then that was burning him.</p>
  <p>Finally, Magnus heaved a sigh, shook his head in exasperation, and turned his eyes and attention back to Ludwig with a mutter. Ludwig opened his mouth as if to speak again, but his voice was promptly cut short when Magnus dumped a pail of water over his soapy head. Feeling pretty terrible for some reason, Berwald took one last glance at them, and stomped off.</p>
  <p>Now he was gonna mope, alright, and damn—had he ever thought that he had missed Magnus' company in a bout of group drinking? Because he sure as hell took it back. Nope. He wouldn't cry, wouldn't cry at all, if anything ever happened to Magnus.</p>
  <p>When he trudged inside, he tossed the bucket irritably at Lukas and made a beeline for his bedroom, and when he threw himself in the bed, he rolled over onto his side and glowered at the wall for the rest of the day. And all night long, every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Magnus, fingers tangled in Ludwig's hair.</p>
  <p>The next morning, Berwald woke up and realized that certain things had started irritating him.</p>
  <p>A lot.</p>
  <p>Maybe it was just being back in Finland, maybe he had just been in a bad mood lately, but goddamn it all if he hadn't suddenly seen Lukas with his arm around Ludwig's shoulder in the kitchen only to realize that he would have liked it better if Lukas hadn't been there at all.</p>
  <p>Finland must have been putting him in a foul disposition. <em>Exceedingly </em>foul—he hadn't ever been mad at Lukas before. Not truly.</p>
  <p>It irritated him when Ludwig's attention was focused on Timo, who often said stupid things and somehow got Ludwig to laugh for it. It irritated him when Lukas leaned down and whispered something in Ludwig's ear, and it irritated him more when a smile crept over Ludwig's face. It irritated him when Timo and Ludwig parted ways with a friendly bump of their fists. It irritated him when Lukas dragged Ludwig off into the solitude of his room. It irritated him when Timo fussed over Ludwig like a mother would.</p>
  <p>And by <em>god</em>.</p>
  <p>The urge to strangle Magnus had reached new, uncharted heights.</p>
  <p>He couldn't ever remember hating Magnus so much. Not even back then. Seeing Magnus now, it would have been more pleasant just to rip his eyeballs right out of his head than to sit there and feel that godawful burning in his chest.</p>
  <p>To see Magnus walk up behind Ludwig and tackle him in a friendly embrace. To see Magnus reach out and ruffle Ludwig's hair with the other arm around Ludwig's neck. To see Ludwig standing before Magnus, placing money into Magnus' hand like a fuckin' banker, and to see Magnus grin at him so fondly the whole while. To see Magnus bump into Ludwig very intentionally and press their cheeks together like they were best friends (actually, they might have been just that). To see Magnus <em>touching </em>Ludwig, all the time, every moment he was able to.</p>
  <p>Touching. Always touching.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was guilty of touching Magnus as much as Magnus was of touching him, but that was hardly the point.</p>
  <p><em> Friends</em>? Bullshit—he didn't care if Magnus and Ludwig were best friends, blood brothers, <em>real </em>brothers, birds of a feather, fuckin' long lost cousins, Hamlet and what's-his-name, joined souls from a past life or whatnot. He didn't care <em>what </em>they were. Magnus touched Ludwig too much.</p>
  <p>Berwald's fingers clenched so often around Magnus now that his palms had permanent indentations of his nails in a neat row.</p>
  <p>Every single night, Magnus and Ludwig sat together on the shaggy loveseat. And every single night, it burned Berwald a little more.</p>
  <p>Smoldering.</p>
  <p>Magnus had already taken Timo from him. He wouldn't lie and say that it was a completely rational statement, but it seemed like Magnus was tryin' to take Ludwig too, if only because he knew that Berwald liked him. Magnus had to have everything. That was what he felt, childish or not.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, though, when Ludwig looked up at him from above Magnus' head, he couldn't help but see the leer on his face and wonder if maybe Ludwig was fuckin' with him again. Maybe Ludwig was frolicking around Magnus so much in an attempt to make him jealous.</p>
  <p>Jealous? Ha—for what? Nice try! He wasn't...</p>
  <p>Ah, fuck it, just fuck it, he wasn't even going to bother anymore. Ludwig was around Magnus, and he was jealous.</p>
  <p>There.</p>
  <p>Actually, he was beyond jealous. More like infuriated. He couldn't ever remember feeling this way. This kind of rage had gotten him into trouble a long time ago.</p>
  <p>He kept his gaze on them, always, and plotted.</p>
  <p>Once, he had done everything in his power to distract Timo from Magnus. Now, he did the same with Ludwig. As they had once tugged him back and forth, so they did now. No doubt Magnus' tugging was simply from the fact that he considered Ludwig a friend, and wanted to spend time with him accordingly, but Berwald couldn't help but think it was something else. Magnus already had Timo. What else did he want?</p>
  <p>He <em>was</em> being childish, no doubt, but this bad mood just wouldn't go away.</p>
  <p>Anyway, whether Magnus had any ulterior motives or not, he sure did seem thrilled that somebody was paying him the attention he no doubt thought he deserved.</p>
  <p>Magnus said 'go', so Berwald said 'stay'. Magnus said 'left', so Berwald said 'right'. Magnus said 'up', so Berwald said 'down'. Ludwig humored them, but Berwald found that unless he actually physically intervened, Ludwig would always heed Magnus.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself constantly restless. Agitated.</p>
  <p>Maybe it was being trapped in the house that had him so foul.</p>
  <p>Days came and went. The door seemed more appealing with every one of them. They shouldn't, they knew it, but you could only be cooped up inside for so long before you wanted to go out, whether it could kill you or not. They had darted up to the sauna from time to time, quickly, but going any farther had been reserved for special occasions. Hadn't even left the porch unless necessary.</p>
  <p>They crept outdoors, tentatively at first, and then grew a little bolder. Out in the distance, there might have been snipers, but they took their chances. Being inside every second was close to insanity.</p>
  <p>Prison.</p>
  <p>Going outside, although it was a wonderful feeling, was more of an instance of Berwald shooting himself in the foot, because Magnus and Ludwig, energetic as they were, just found more things to do.</p>
  <p>Goddammit.</p>
  <p>Together. Like always.</p>
  <p>It pricked him more each day, and by the sixth consecutive day that Magnus led Ludwig to the front door and intended to drag him out to roll around in the leaves or whatever the hell they did, Berwald absolutely regretted ever opening the door in the first place.</p>
  <p>If he had been foul before, he was just festering now.</p>
  <p>Ludwig loved being outside, and that would have been great if it had been Berwald at his side instead of that loud-mouthed bastard. If Ludwig would have dragged him out the door rather than Magnus. Berwald spent most of his time now in the kitchen, popped up on his toes and lifting the blind up with a finger as he glared through the glass at Magnus and Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Maybe he had turned into a bit of a stalker. Perfectly reasonable, surely—he didn't trust Magnus.</p>
  <p>Whenever they trudged up the hill to the wooden bathhouse above and disappeared within, Berwald was fairly certain that he was one heartbeat away from having a coronary.</p>
  <p>Felt more like summer, as hot as he was all the time.</p>
  <p>The ninth day, Magnus stood on the porch, waiting for Ludwig, and Berwald managed to gather control of his hands long enough to reach out and grab a fistful of Ludwig's sleeve. Ludwig fell still where he stood, quite tranquil beneath Berwald's grip, and waited patiently as Berwald tried to form words.</p>
  <p>"Why don't ya just stay inside...today. For now. Erhm, that is, if you want."</p>
  <p>Pitiful.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's smile was a little knowing, and Berwald could only furrow his brow and hope that he hadn't made a fool of himself.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig alone together was suddenly the most frightening thing in the world.</p>
  <p>Ludwig straightened up, smile ever widening, and finally he said, "Well. I guess I could stay in. If you want."</p>
  <p>Sure as hell did want that, and when Ludwig turned around and came away from the door, he had very nearly heaved a sigh of relief. Tucking his hands in his pockets and lowering his chin, Ludwig waited for him to act. Almost like he had been expecting this.</p>
  <p>Huh.</p>
  <p>Berwald opened his mouth, and faltered, because what he really wanted to say was more like, 'If I see you hangin' around Magnus again I'm gonna punch both of you in the nose.'</p>
  <p>Might not have gone over well.</p>
  <p>Possessive? Nah.</p>
  <p>...well. Maybe a little.</p>
  <p>Seeing his immobility, Ludwig just sighed and shook his head, and then threw a heavy arm around Berwald's shoulders.</p>
  <p>"Come on, then!"</p>
  <p>Oh, god, the way his heart was hammering away coulda made him faint right there—</p>
  <p>"What did you have in mind?"</p>
  <p>He looked over, dumbly, and wondered if Ludwig would keep his arm there for as long as it took him to answer. Couldn't even think right, let alone speak, so he just stared at Ludwig and hoped he would lean over farther, maybe press their cheeks together as he did so easily with Magnus.</p>
  <p>No go.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just stood there, waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to say <em>it</em>, maybe.</p>
  <p>It.</p>
  <p>Saying <em>it </em>was exceedingly terrifying somehow, even though some kind of base had already been established between them. Ludwig kept staring at him, kept waiting, and yet he kept choking.</p>
  <p>A sound at their side, as the door opened halfway.</p>
  <p>Magnus poked his head in, and said, "Hey, Ludwig, come help me. I'm trying to fix up the backdoor. Keeps gettin' stuck for some reason."</p>
  <p>...oops.</p>
  <p>Without waiting for an answer he went back out, and Ludwig turned to Berwald.</p>
  <p>"Well," he began, carefully, "I'll be back in a minute. Maybe you should think of something you want to do, and when I'm done, you can tell me."</p>
  <p>Christ, if Ludwig were any more obvious he'd be beating Berwald over the head with a stick. And still, all Berwald did was nod his head. Ludwig left, Berwald moped, Ludwig came back, and Berwald choked.</p>
  <p>In other words, a normal day.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked a little disappointed at his silence, but stayed there with him all the same that day. When this war was over with, maybe they'd be writing legends about Ludwig's inhuman patience. Sure as hell deserved as much study as any mythology.</p>
  <p>Time passed. The trees stood bare.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself beside Timo one day, scrubbing clothes on the rippled board, and he glanced over from time to time, opening his mouth and then thinking better of it. He wanted to say, sternly, 'Listen here, you, keep your man away from mine.' The only problem with that statement, had he managed to say it, was that while Magnus was very much Timo's man, Ludwig was not his.</p>
  <p>And another problem was that Timo didn't seem bothered by anything going on.</p>
  <p>He didn't get that.</p>
  <p>He didn't understand how Timo could sit there and watch Ludwig and Magnus all but nuzzling each other on the fuckin' loveseat and not get mad about it. He didn't get how Timo could listen to Magnus and Ludwig murmuring away in their own language and not feel a little threatened by it. He didn't quite comprehend how Timo could see them being together so often and not be irritated by it. How Timo could see Magnus keep an arm over Ludwig's shoulders and just not care.</p>
  <p>Come to think, actually, Timo always just smiled, and sometimes he sent that smile in Berwald's direction. Timo must have seen something he didn't.</p>
  <p>To be fair, though, lately all he had been seeing was red.</p>
  <p>It was a lot easier to just want to murder Magnus than it was to try and figure out <em>why</em>.</p>
  <p>It was probably around then that Berwald realized that Ludwig had turned him into a schoolgirl. Being jealous over absolutely nothing and glowering around corners. Rolling around in his bed in fits of angst. Whining in his head about how he was better than Magnus so by all rights Ludwig should be more interested in <em>him</em>. He felt like he was sixteen years old again. How embarrassing. Next, he'd be scribbling love notes and shoving them under Ludwig's door.</p>
  <p>In the end, he completed his clothes-washing without ordering Timo to tell Magnus where he could shove it, and tromped back inside.</p>
  <p>...wonder how deep he could get Magnus under the dirt before he got caught. Couple of feet, at least. That damn hair probably woulda poked outta the ground and given him away, though.</p>
  <p>Not the best way to spend his time, perhaps, and as it was, he wasn't the only one trying to murder Magnus. Soviet soldiers seemed keen on the idea as well, once they found their feet as a group again and started working.</p>
  <p>It wasn't the first time he'd been to Finland, but it was the first time he'd been here that he had been responsible for the safety of someone other than himself.</p>
  <p>Pressure.</p>
  <p>None of them listened to him as it was, and to think that he would tell them to do one thing and have them do the opposite and get hurt for it was horrifying.</p>
  <p>On second thought, it was more horrifying to think they'd actually listen to him for once and get hurt for it.</p>
  <p>Timo stayed with them now, but still did very much whatever he wanted. Lukas came and went when he pleased. Magnus and Ludwig, of all people, were the ones who listened to Berwald the most, but Ludwig had a tendency to embellish his orders a little and Magnus cropped off some edges.</p>
  <p>He tried to keep them together in their own small group; Timo's friends, reckless as they were, didn't hold Berwald's interest. Let them do whatever. He'd be low-key and keep his men alive for it.</p>
  <p>They spent most of their time nowadays just roaming the forests on the edge of the town, keeping an eye on the lines and making sure that no soldiers came calling. Odd jobs here and there, if Berwald found it to his liking, and once in a while they loaned themselves to towns outside.</p>
  <p>The Winter War had officially ended, but many Finns seemed determined to drag it on for as long as possible. Sometimes they asked for help as group. Sometimes they only wanted one or two.</p>
  <p>It was somehow worse, going with them by himself.</p>
  <p>Worse still was sending Lukas or Magnus. Timo was an instigator here, but Lukas and Magnus went only because he told them to and because Timo encouraged them. Bad enough, but damn if sending Ludwig through the door didn't leave Berwald sitting there and feeling sick as a dog until he finally came back.</p>
  <p>If anything happened to Ludwig, he was fairly certain that he would go and throw himself down into the damn lake. The thought of Ludwig getting gunned down with only strangers around him. Men who didn't know him, who saw him as more of a commodity than a brother. How would they know that Ludwig wanted to go to the black forest?</p>
  <p>For the most part, his constant fretting was for naught, and every time now that he had sent one of them or gone himself, they had all come back in one piece.</p>
  <p>It was Lukas, of all of them, who got hurt first here in Finland. Actually, it was the first time since they had been together that one of them had gotten shot. Lukas, going out as he did without warning and without telling anyone.</p>
  <p>Reckless.</p>
  <p>It wasn't strange to wake up one morning and realize that Lukas wasn't inside, but he had been gone that entire day, and the night had fallen long before he actually came back. He stumbled through the door more than he walked in, and the stark shade of bright red stood out rather dramatically against the white of the coat.</p>
  <p>A long, heavy silence, as they gawked at Lukas, nobody appearing to comprehend the scene. It took a while to get moving.</p>
  <p>"What happened?" was the first thing that Berwald managed to say, and Lukas just shook his head, looking foul and breathless and wincing when he struggled to get out of the coat.</p>
  <p>Magnus rushed forward to help him pull it off, and Ludwig was already scrambling for their pitifully equipped first-aid kit. Timo grabbed the nearest rifle and ran out the door.</p>
  <p>Berwald just stood there.</p>
  <p>"Got spotted," Lukas finally grumbled. "Didn't see him 'til he was on me. Missed me though. I got him."</p>
  <p>"Anyone come after you?"</p>
  <p>Lukas shook his head.</p>
  <p>"Missed my ass!" Magnus cried, when the coat was off and the blood pouring from Lukas' right shoulder was quite obvious.</p>
  <p>All the same, Berwald felt his chest loosening, and he heaved a sigh of a relief. Just the shoulder. One shot, right below the collarbone. Nothing fatal. Could've been worse. So much worse. He'd bitch at Lukas later. Not the right time now, and Lukas was as likely to whirl around and punch him than he was to talk to him.</p>
  <p>How odd. It was strange, to see Lukas covered in blood that didn't belong to someone else.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig hauled Lukas down onto the couch, and Timo kept guard outside the door, just in case Lukas had been followed. Berwald, who probably should have been standing out with Timo, found himself rather fascinated with the happenings before him.</p>
  <p>Drops of red dotted the wooden floor.</p>
  <p>Watching Magnus gripping Lukas' arm in a vice and watching Ludwig poke at the hole in Lukas' shoulder was somehow exceedingly interesting. He couldn't say whether it was seeing Magnus and Ludwig working together for something so unpleasant, or whether it was realizing that maybe Lukas wasn't so invincible after all.</p>
  <p>Maybe just getting a glimpse of what it looked like when their luck finally ran out.</p>
  <p>A call of his name jolted him from his stillness.</p>
  <p>"Berwald, get me a knife or something."</p>
  <p>Ludwig was looking at him, expectantly, and it took him a second to react. He jumped a little and darted into the kitchen, opening drawers and searching for something useful. When he found a kitchen knife, a little dull but still functional, he brought it back.</p>
  <p>Magnus took it, and doused it in alcohol before handing it to Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Quickly, Magnus took a grip of Lukas' arm again, and when Ludwig and Lukas locked eyes, all Ludwig said was, "Please don't punch me."</p>
  <p>Ludwig could see the irritability there, too.</p>
  <p>"I'll try."</p>
  <p>As an afterthought, Magnus took hold of Lukas' other arm, pinning them back.</p>
  <p>With that, Ludwig suddenly dug the knife into the bullet hole, trying to dig the lead out, and Berwald was glad that Ludwig didn't speak Norwegian, because what Lukas called him then might have hurt his feelings otherwise. A minute of digging that felt far too long, gritted teeth and foul curses from Lukas, and then Ludwig finally managed to flick the bullet out.</p>
  <p>No time to relax—Ludwig grabbed the alcohol and poured it straight into the wound, and even Berwald felt himself wincing a little when Lukas bit down to keep himself from screeching at Ludwig. Were you supposed to douse an open wound like that? Oh, well. Ludwig had already done it.</p>
  <p>Why couldn't they have ever come across a fleeing doctor?</p>
  <p>And it might have been Magnus' firm grip, after all, that kept Lukas from punching Ludwig in the face, because he sure as hell was writhing and trying very hard to break free.</p>
  <p>Berwald just stood there, and felt rather useless as Magnus held a squirming Lukas still and Ludwig did the best he could on the wound. He looked down, at the bullet lying on the floor. Horrifying, to imagine such a tiny thing caused such destruction. If Ludwig ever got shot—</p>
  <p>"I think that's as good as it's gettin'," Ludwig finally said, as he pressed the bandage as hard as he could against Lukas' shoulder, and Berwald could see the sweat on Lukas' forehead.</p>
  <p>The crinkle of pain in his brow.</p>
  <p>"Should you stitch it, you think?" Berwald asked, and Ludwig just pursed his lips.</p>
  <p>"I don't know how. I'll probably make it worse. I think it'll be alright."</p>
  <p>Magnus muttered, lowly, "You're such a lucky son of a bitch."</p>
  <p>Lukas just smiled, a bit dazedly, and when Ludwig was done, he asked, "You're not gonna hit me, are you?"</p>
  <p>A short silence, and then Lukas shook his head. Magnus let go of his arms.</p>
  <p>Lukas didn't punch Ludwig in the face, but he did lie a little; he jerked his left fist forward and dug it rather mercilessly into Ludwig's side, knocking the wind out of him for a second with an 'oomph'.</p>
  <p>"I can't <em>wait </em>until you get shot," Lukas hissed, "'Cause I'm gonna have fun stabbin' you."</p>
  <p>Ludwig, rubbing at his side and wincing a little, just smiled.</p>
  <p>"Yeah, sure. You're all talk."</p>
  <p>They left him there on the couch, took the bloody coat to the back, and Timo came in afterwards.</p>
  <p>Berwald lifted his head, but Timo just said, "Clear."</p>
  <p>A relief.</p>
  <p>"Alright," Lukas finally said, a while later, and Berwald was pretty sure that he heard the smallest of tremors in his voice, "Somebody get me a drink."</p>
  <p>Magnus tossed him a bottle, Lukas drank all night, and snow started falling soon after.</p>
  <p>Five days later, Berwald finally gave Lukas the long lecture about going off on his own, and the whole time he felt a great sense of déjà vu, because he was pretty sure this was the sixth or seventh time he'd given this exact same speech. Lukas just smiled, nodding his head even though Berwald's words likely floated out the other side, and before he knew it, two months had gone by and it was winter again.</p>
  <p>Christmas was a little dreary, way out here in the middle of nowhere and without anyone other than themselves.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig, usually so put together, had both looked pale and homesick as they sat huddled together on the loveseat, and that was the only time Berwald could recall that that fact hadn't bothered him. At least not in the same way. Bothered him that they looked so sad, yeah, but not that they were sitting together.</p>
  <p>Timo and Lukas chattered about Christmases in their homeland, and Berwald just sat by himself and couldn't really even remember what the hell Christmas was.</p>
  <p>A long time.</p>
  <p>No doubt this was the first time Ludwig had been away from home for Christmas, and when he turned his eyes over and over again to the window, Berwald could only imagine that Ludwig was trying to see Germany all the way from here.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>He felt sick, sometimes.</p>
  <p>Days passed.</p>
  <p>New years came soon after.</p>
  <p>Sleet battered the roof.</p>
  <p>Lukas' shoulder had healed up nicely. Ludwig was still sleeping in his bed at least twice a week. Everything seemed to be going alright.</p>
  <p>That night, celebrating a new year and hopes that the war would end, everyone drank too much. Far too much. Lukas passed out on the porch, Timo could barely walk, Magnus leaned back into the sofa and found the ceiling exceedingly interesting, and Ludwig could hardly fuckin' talk he was so drunk.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't too far behind them.</p>
  <p>Magnus wandered off a while later, Timo disappeared somewhere, Ludwig probably couldn't remember where the hell he was, and suddenly it had seemed like a good idea to Berwald to haul himself to his feet and walk around. As he passed the sofa, Ludwig reached out, maybe to grab his shirt, but he missed, and Berwald was too uncoordinated to actually make a turn then and go back. It was hard enough tryin' to figure out what room he was in, let alone pull off a circle. He stumbled around, using the walls for support when he staggered, and when he rounded a corner, he found himself interrupting something intimate.</p>
  <p>Very intimate.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Timo, drunk as they were. Magnus was leaning down, murmuring away in Timo's ear, and Berwald had come in just in time to see Timo grab Magnus' belt and pull him backwards until they hit the wall. Magnus tongue disappeared in Timo's throat soon after.</p>
  <p>He froze where he stood, silent and still, as his shocked mind tried to comprehend the scene before him.</p>
  <p>What he felt then was strange.</p>
  <p>Discomfort, sure. Unease. Distaste, more than anything. Like he had eaten something that had left a very unpleasant aftertaste in the back of his throat. But not jealousy. Not hate. Irritation, mostly. He furrowed his brow and felt the frown forming, and was irritated because it was pretty easy for his intoxicated mind to imagine Ludwig in Timo's place.</p>
  <p>They'd been down each other's throats these past months (so to speak), so it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine that a drunk Magnus might just turn his affections to the next best thing when Timo was gone. If Timo hadn't been there in that moment when Magnus had stepped in, if Ludwig had been alone in the corner, it wasn't too hard to think that Magnus would have grabbed Ludwig instead.</p>
  <p>His head was killing him all of a sudden. Thinking too much.</p>
  <p>He took a step backwards, meaning to retreat, but his clumsy feet betrayed him and he wound up bumping into the chair. They looked up quickly, and Berwald was surprised at that because he had assumed it would have taken a good two minutes for Magnus to get all of his tongue back out of Timo's throat.</p>
  <p>His restless feet were shuffling then.</p>
  <p>The grimace must have still been on his face, because Timo was quick to give a mortified giggle and squirm out from under Magnus and make a break for the nearest bedroom as fast as his wobbly legs would allow.</p>
  <p>Magnus meant to follow him, catching Berwald's eye as he went. A long, scorching look. Tipsy Magnus mistook Berwald's distaste for something else. If ever Berwald had found Magnus mistrustful, Magnus found him to be in apparently equal standing.</p>
  <p>Magnus spoke then, and what he said was nothing Berwald would have expected.</p>
  <p>"Why do you still keep goin' after him, huh? I don't get you—you knew all along he didn't love ya, but ya still keep trying. Why can't you just leave him alone? He's not gonna fall in love with you, it's not gonna happen. Leave him alone. Timo never loved you."</p>
  <p>On a normal day, his brain was slow enough to respond. Add on a few bottles of vodka, and he found himself standing there like an idiot, lips pursed and eyes squinted as Magnus berated him for no reason whatsoever. Too dumb to speak up. A year ago, this speech would have been warranted. But not anymore.</p>
  <p>Magnus was confused. As irritable now as Berwald was. Magnus had always been volatile. A drunk Magnus was a breath away from being completely irrational.</p>
  <p>Insane.</p>
  <p>"Leave him alone. Stop tryin'. Ha! For the good it would ever have done ya. The only reason anyone's puttin' up with ya at all is because we have to! Soon as this war ends, you can bet not a damn one of us will see ya again afterwards! Bein' around you is almost worse than runnin' into a fuckin' platoon. Can't <em>wait </em>to be rid of you. There's a reason you've always been alone. Always will be, the way you are."</p>
  <p>The words hurt.</p>
  <p>There had been a great misunderstanding between them, and Berwald found that he was just so damn <em>angry </em>that he couldn't even open his mouth and set the idiot straight.</p>
  <p>He could have said, 'You can have Timo for all I care, you son of a bitch, just leave Ludwig alone,' but he didn't.</p>
  <p>What he felt then was hard to explain, because he wasn't sure if it was hurt or wrath, or hate. All three, likely. He just turned his back then, and walked away. If it made Magnus uncomfortable, then let Magnus think that he was still after Timo. Anything to make Magnus miserable.</p>
  <p>It would bite him in the ass one day, no doubt.</p>
  <p>At his back, Magnus spat, lowly, "Who could ever put up with <em>you</em>? I'll celebrate gettin' away from you more than I will the treaty being signed."</p>
  <p>The fact that Magnus and Ludwig were so close made it sting all the more. If Magnus thought it, then who could say with certainty that Ludwig didn't, too? When they whispered to each other in their dialect, maybe this was what they said.</p>
  <p>Because, nowadays, it was <em>always </em>Magnus and Ludwig. Men of similar minds.</p>
  <p>Magnus slammed the door behind him when he stomped into Timo's room, and Berwald somehow staggered to his own and threw himself down on the bed, palm pressed to his forehead.</p>
  <p>Anger, throbbing in his veins. Burning.</p>
  <p>He didn't even have time to mull it over and calm down before Ludwig pushed open his door and leaned in the frame.</p>
  <p>"Berwald?"</p>
  <p>He just sat there, head rested in his hand, and did not respond to Ludwig's gentle voice.</p>
  <p>It took him a second to gather the nerve to look up. Ludwig was smiling at him blearily, and it was obvious that it had been a great struggle to make it this far.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was drunk, that was obvious right off. Staggering around, he barely seemed able to see, and when he lurched forward and fell onto the bed, nearly taking it out, when he reached out and wrapped an arm around Berwald's shoulders, when he leaned in and pressed his nose into Berwald's neck, Berwald realized how out of it Ludwig was.</p>
  <p>The smell of Ludwig would have been pleasing any other time. Not so much now.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was beyond drunk. Blackout. He'd never seen Ludwig this intoxicated.</p>
  <p>Maybe that was for the best.</p>
  <p>"I was looking for you. Where'd ya go?"</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't say, 'I was getting stomped by Magnus,' so he just stayed silent.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't seem to mind much, and maybe somehow Ludwig knew everything, because he suddenly whispered, rather coyly despite the slur, "Magnus makin' ya mad, huh?"</p>
  <p>The tone in which Ludwig said it made him think twice about everything that had been going on, and maybe if he hadn't been so knocked down by Magnus' words, he would have grabbed Ludwig's collar and taught him a rough lesson about the repercussions of intentionally trying to make him jealous.</p>
  <p>Couldn't seem to get his arms working.</p>
  <p>Ludwig only put up with him because he <em>had</em> to. Nowhere else to go.</p>
  <p>Even Ludwig nuzzling the side of his neck couldn't get rid of that voice. Ludwig's other arm came forward, completing a loop around his neck, and suddenly Ludwig was pressing up against his side, closing any distance between them. Warm breath in his ear, a nose shifting strands of his hair, lips running down the side of his neck. Fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.</p>
  <p>Heat.</p>
  <p>The scent of alcohol.</p>
  <p>Ludwig shifted his angle, repositioned his weight, and somehow managed to push Berwald far enough back onto the bed to start crawling on top of him.</p>
  <p>He couldn't even move. His throat had clenched up.</p>
  <p>The mattress sank in warning at the weight put upon it. Ludwig didn't heed it, and soon Berwald found himself completely underneath him, Ludwig's arms on either side of him as he sought balance.</p>
  <p>Warm. Too warm.</p>
  <p>A temporary situation. When the war ended—</p>
  <p>Ludwig fell down on top of him, pushing him down with his full weight, face burrowing into his hair, and when Ludwig started whispering, purring out those 'r's that Berwald found himself so fascinated by, the heat was starting to become uncomfortable. The weight above him, that would have been a dream come true just a little earlier, was suddenly stifling.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe.</p>
  <p>Hands ran down the front of his shirt, and then underneath. Unbearable friction. Ludwig was trying very hard to incite him, and god, if only he could understand that it was working alright, but that there was just something <em>nagging </em>him.</p>
  <p>Heavy breathing in his ear.</p>
  <p>His heart was pounding so hard he knew Ludwig could feel it. He could feel him smiling in his neck, and his hands started roaming farther down. The whispering had turned rather husky, suddenly, and Berwald's non-fluent German couldn't pick up over half of what Ludwig was muttering, which meant that most of what he was saying was certainly nothing that would have ever come up in a civilized conversation.</p>
  <p>The pit of his stomach tightened.</p>
  <p>His hands flew up, and they would have grabbed Ludwig's waist if he hadn't caught himself at the last second and forced them back down to his sides.</p>
  <p>Couldn't focus. Agitation.</p>
  <p>The fingers under his shirt raked down, suddenly, nails dragging into his skin, and took hold of his belt. Ludwig's legs fell on either side of him then, and he found himself quite efficiently straddled, and even though this scenario had crossed his mind once or twice before, it felt wrong.</p>
  <p>Wrong.</p>
  <p>And not because Ludwig was drunk.</p>
  <p>He felt sick all of a sudden.</p>
  <p>If it had been a night earlier, just one night earlier, when Ludwig crawled on top of him, he would have sat still. It wouldn't have been <em>right</em>, nah, it would have made him the worst man in the world, but he would have done it all the same, because he wasn't a good person. When Ludwig put all of his weight against him and tried very hard to meld them into one, he probably would have grabbed his waist and ground him down harder. When Ludwig lowered clumsy fingers and dragged them down beneath the beltline of his pants, he probably would have lied there and let Ludwig undo the buttons. When Ludwig sank his teeth into his neck, he probably would have reached up and grabbed his hair and yanked.</p>
  <p>He would have let Ludwig do whatever he wanted, just one night earlier.</p>
  <p>He couldn't now. Not now. Magnus' words kept ringin' in his ears. Ludwig was only doing this because he was drunk.</p>
  <p>...probably woulda grabbed onto the first person he laid eyes on.</p>
  <p>Ludwig might lie in the bed with him some nights, but the second the peace treaties were signed, Ludwig would pack up his things and leave. Wouldn't even look back. He was just a loneliness fix, until the world was set right again.</p>
  <p>Teeth grazed his neck. A soft moan of his name. Uncoordinated fingers tried to unclasp his belt, before getting irritated and the running below instead. He couldn't say when he had started holding his breath, but he felt himself grabbing Ludwig's arms and yanking them up out of his pants and back upright.</p>
  <p>Ludwig slurred something unintelligible, and his smile held strong. Berwald took Ludwig's wrists in his hands, pinning them still, and the bleary smile that Ludwig sent him somehow made his chest ache rather than burn.</p>
  <p>Not fair.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, misinterpreting his firm grip, squirmed on top of him and was apparently quite happy to think that Berwald was about to flip him over or force his hands lower, and, god, he could have fallen over and died for how awful he felt.</p>
  <p>It didn't mean anything—never had. Just circumstances.</p>
  <p>So Berwald flipped Ludwig over, alright, sinking ever lower into the collapsing bed, and when Ludwig was underneath him, he kept his wrists in a firm grip, and tried to slide himself to the edge.</p>
  <p>It took a minute for drunk Ludwig to figure out that Berwald wasn't...<em>doing </em>whatever Ludwig had intended him to be doing.</p>
  <p>He slipped his legs over the edge, found his foothold, and let go of Ludwig's wrists. Ludwig sat up, after a tipsy struggle, and Berwald was quick to shove him backwards back down onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to keep him from giving chase, at least until Berwald could outmaneuver him.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig was trying to sit up again, Berwald bolted for the door. Ludwig gripped the blankets for support, and Berwald heard him slur, as he fled for the hall, "Wait, where're ya goin'? Haven't even started yet—"</p>
  <p>Ludwig was too drunk to even get up to follow him.</p>
  <p>He left Ludwig behind, stalked down the hall, and found himself outside.</p>
  <p>The lake rippled below with the sleet.</p>
  <p>His head was on fire.</p>
  <p>Upside down. Nothing seemed right.</p>
  <p>People did things when they were drunk that didn't mean anything. People said things without thinking that didn't mean anything. People put into stressed situations did things that they wouldn't have done otherwise, and it didn't mean anything.</p>
  <p>And people <em>fucked </em>other people, even people they didn't really like much, and that didn't mean anything either.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig, always talking.</p>
  <p>He stayed outside all night, too afraid to trek back into the house even though Ludwig had no doubt passed out on his bed. He was glad that Ludwig was so drunk, because otherwise Ludwig would have hated him. He wouldn't remember this, and that was for the best.</p>
  <p>Who knew? Maybe Magnus had been a blessing in disguise, because if Magnus hadn't said anything, then he would have let Ludwig do as he wanted, and when the morning came, when Ludwig woke up with a hangover, when Ludwig tried to figure out why he was so sore only to look over and see Berwald sleeping next to him, when Ludwig realized that Berwald had taken advantage of him in a vulnerable situation, then maybe the whole thing that he and Ludwig had built around each other would have crashed down.</p>
  <p>He couldn't have handled that.</p>
  <p>He would have gotten too attached, and it would have been devastating when Ludwig left for good.</p>
  <p>Had to be this way.</p>
  <p>Magnus was right. Sometimes, in certain ways, Timo and Ludwig were so much alike. If Timo could never have loved him, then how could Ludwig? He would always be alone.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had come into his bedroom, and Berwald knew why; because Ludwig was lonely. This war was the only thing keeping Ludwig by his side. When it ended, Ludwig would leave. Ludwig's interest wouldn't linger afterwards, when the world was open to him again. An entire world, a handsome young man in the prime of life—what would ever keep Ludwig by <em>his </em>side?</p>
  <p>He was nobody.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had a bright future, and he wasn't anywhere in it.</p>
  <p>What was the point? Keeping his distance from Ludwig was better, so it wouldn't sting quite as much when he finally went off on his own path.</p>
  <p>'41 was suddenly well on the way.</p>
  <p>Not fair.</p>
  <p>The way Magnus and Ludwig spoke to each other.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Let There Be Country</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 15</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Let There Be Country</strong>
  </p>
  <p>"He hasn't been speaking to me lately."</p>
  <p>Months.</p>
  <p>"How come?"</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>"...I don't know. I can't figure out what I did."</p>
  <p>Everything had turned upside down. The red flag had backfired. His own flag had gone from well up the mountain back down to base. That was the only thing he could think of anyway, because trying to make Berwald jealous was the only thing he had done differently these past weeks.</p>
  <p>Now Berwald wasn't speaking to him at all.</p>
  <p>Maybe he had pushed too far. Too hard. Maybe he had been reckless. Maybe he had miscalculated. Maybe he had just been a great damn idiot, as he so often was. Maybe he had pressed the wrong button and incited Berwald's anger rather than his jealousy. Berwald had gone beyond silence and was actively avoiding him.</p>
  <p>Base? More like the flag had been blown away completely.</p>
  <p>Kinda <em>hurt</em>.</p>
  <p>Nothing was the same as it had been just a few months ago. None of the motions, none of the silent camaraderie, no more glances or brushes or company.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had considered them to be...well.</p>
  <p><em>Them</em>.</p>
  <p>Not 'them' anymore. Not 'us'. Not 'we'. Just him and just Berwald, but not together. Separate. He reached out. Berwald sidestepped. He opened his mouth. Berwald slunk away before he could speak. He stared. Berwald lowered his eyes.</p>
  <p>Alone. Surrounded by men on all sides and still somehow so lonely.</p>
  <p>Berwald wouldn't speak to him.</p>
  <p>And so now he sat here with Timo, who watched him with chin in hand and a strange, leering smile upon his face, and had to suffer uttering those words and risking appearing pathetic in the process. But Berwald wasn't talking to him, so sitting with Timo was all he could do. Didn't really have the heart to do much else, and being around Magnus had probably been the wrong path, anyway.</p>
  <p>Timo couldn't really cheer him up this time, though. Actually, for once, Timo's presence just seemed to make him feel worse.</p>
  <p>"Silent treatment, huh?" was Timo's hardly concerned response. "Didn't think Berwald talked enough as it was to give anyone the silent treatment. Ha. That's a new one. You look pretty upset by it." A quick leer. "Any particular reason?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig sent Timo a rather testy look, and turned pointedly away.</p>
  <p>What did <em>he </em>know about Berwald, anyway?</p>
  <p>Not just Timo. All of them. None of them had ever really treated Berwald as anything more than just 'that guy I have to put up with until the war ends'. What did they know? If they had ever actually bothered, they might have discovered that Berwald had more than a little to say.</p>
  <p>Just not to him anymore.</p>
  <p>On second thought, maybe it wasn't even worth it to get to know Berwald. Too much effort for too little. It wasn't <em>his</em> fault. Berwald was to blame. He hadn't done anything wrong.</p>
  <p>Idiot.</p>
  <p>He had been so irritable lately. Bitterness in the back of his throat.</p>
  <p>If the big oaf had a problem with him, anyway, all he had to do was open his mouth and spill it. Give him a hint, at least. If Berwald thought that he had been wronged in some way, then let him say it, because Ludwig wasn't going to go to him and say, 'I'm sorry', and grovel to get things back to the way they had been before.</p>
  <p>He hadn't done anything wrong. He wouldn't go crawling.</p>
  <p>Pride. Too much pride.</p>
  <p>Timo saw his waning patience and his annoyance, and reached out to clap him on the shoulder, fingers and grip firm.</p>
  <p>"Hey," he said, amicably, "Sorry! I didn't mean to piss ya off! I didn't mean it, I was just messin' with ya."</p>
  <p>Ludwig gave a gruff mumble as an answer, and kept his face turned away.</p>
  <p>After a while, Timo dropped his hand and wandered off.</p>
  <p>He couldn't say that he was really angry with Timo, not with Timo, but he took it out on him all the same. Not just that moment, either. The next day, Timo tried to offer friendly words, and Ludwig brushed them off with nods and 'hm's. When Timo pressed, trying to get a response, Ludwig had given him one, alright.</p>
  <p>'Leave me alone.'</p>
  <p>Timo hadn't shown any outright offense, but he sure hadn't said anything to Ludwig for the rest of the day. Lukas saw his foul mood, as Ludwig had seen Lukas', and avoided him accordingly when the time was right. Magnus didn't even seem to notice, the dummy, and took Ludwig's absence and silence as no problem, not when Timo was around to slobber over.</p>
  <p>Doors had a way of pissing him off, though, because every time Berwald slunk by him he seemed to have a way of finding one to kick.</p>
  <p>Lukas tried to avoid touching him too much at night, just to make sure he didn't set Ludwig off.</p>
  <p>The days felt long.</p>
  <p>The rifle was heavy.</p>
  <p>He didn't go into Berwald's room anymore.</p>
  <p>When he went out on a job, the Finns around him got him so riled up that every so often he shot his gun off into the bark of a tree nearest where they stood. They didn't bother him too much anymore, perhaps needless to say.</p>
  <p>He took it out on all of them, he took it out on everything, and the whole while, Berwald just kept his eyes on the floor.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's swiftly shifting moods would get him into trouble one day. All the same, he gave in to them. Always had, because he couldn't help it. Every passing day, he felt himself growing angrier. Irritation was starting to melt into irrationality.</p>
  <p>He wouldn't say 'sorry'.</p>
  <p>It was worse in a way to feel as if Berwald were miles away like Gilbert was when Berwald was actually right beside of him.</p>
  <p>He wasn't the one in the wrong.</p>
  <p>Stupid. Berwald was so stupid. All he had to do was talk.</p>
  <p>Was that so hard?</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Agitation.</p>
  <p>Ludwig hadn't taken too well to his silence and shiftiness. Sometimes, Berwald looked up and realized that Ludwig looked pretty damn <em>mad</em>. An angry Ludwig was a rather frightening one, but that had been obvious from day one.</p>
  <p>Shoulda known better than to antagonize him.</p>
  <p>Didn't see what his problem was, though. By all rights, Berwald assumed his absence would have allowed Ludwig to spend more time with Magnus. They had been so stuck on each other before that Berwald had almost worried his distance would allow them to finally merge into one obnoxious being, as they no doubt had always wanted.</p>
  <p>Hardly.</p>
  <p>That wasn't the case, and Berwald knew now it hadn't ever been. Maybe on some level, he always had known. Still, though, in his more childish moments that was what his mind liked to spit out.</p>
  <p>Whether or not Ludwig and Magnus were around each other didn't seem to matter as much to him anymore as much as wondering how alike in minds they were. If Ludwig would feed off of Magnus' hatred of Berwald now that Berwald had taken to avoiding Ludwig.</p>
  <p>For all it mattered.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't even bother with Magnus anymore. He didn't bother with <em>anyone</em>, come to think, and spent most of his time lurking in corners and trying to murder random objects with his eyes. Always foul. Always brooding. Sometimes, in the wrong mood, Ludwig was scary.</p>
  <p>Scarier still was the thought that Ludwig wouldn't ever speak to him again.</p>
  <p>The war would end one day, and Ludwig would move on. Was this how they were doomed to spend the last of their time together, avoiding gazes and glaring at walls?</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't snatch his glasses anymore. For the best, as it was, because the way things were now between them Ludwig might have thrown the glasses right on the floor and then stomped them.</p>
  <p>He hadn't known it would feel this damn bad.</p>
  <p>Still, the world around them carried on.</p>
  <p>"We should think about movin' around," Timo said one day, as spring began to burst back into summer.</p>
  <p>Berwald hadn't even batted an eye. Move? Didn't feel like it.</p>
  <p>"Where do you wanna go?" Magnus asked, almost warily. "Not...not wantin' to try and get into the Soviet Union, are ya?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig sat off silently near the door, and watched the trees swaying outside.</p>
  <p>Somehow, Magnus' fear didn't seem outlandish in the least. Sounded kinda like something Timo might actually have tried if he got bold enough.</p>
  <p>No time for Timo to answer.</p>
  <p>Lukas butted in.</p>
  <p>"I'd rather go down to Helsinki before we go anywhere," Lukas said, rather dreamily, and it was enough to drag attention away from relocation for a while.</p>
  <p>Humoring Lukas, Berwald asked, "Why's that?"</p>
  <p>It hardly surprised him when Lukas responded, "I'd like to go see <em>Intermezzo </em>while it's back in the theatre. Ingrid Bergman is so lovely, don't you think, especially when she's playing a Norwegian!"</p>
  <p>Magnus gave a short, coarse laugh, and Berwald could already see the dour look on Ludwig's face.</p>
  <p>"I think I'll pass on that," Ludwig grumbled, in a moment of foulness.</p>
  <p>"What?" Timo crooned, teasingly, "You don't like going to see the movies? Don't worry, we won't embarrass you in there." In a sly voice, he added, "You and Berwald can go sit off in the back and be quiet, and we'll cause a ruckus up front. How's that?"</p>
  <p>Ouch.</p>
  <p>He might have appreciated that one before, but now it was more than unpleasant. Ludwig would have enjoyed the back of the theatre, alright, just so that he would have enough privacy to punch Berwald in the face without being escorted outside.</p>
  <p>Ludwig furrowed his brow, turned narrowed eyes to the wall, and just glowered away.</p>
  <p>Berwald sent Timo an irritated glare, but Lukas interrupted with a completely random, "She's so lovely, I can't believe she's not Norwegian in the first place!"</p>
  <p>Offhandedly, Berwald said, "Swedes are pretty, too."</p>
  <p>A simple sentence. Sure did piss Ludwig off, though.</p>
  <p>"Yeah, well," Ludwig added, a bit snappily, "She's half German, remember? Where do you think she got all the good looks from?"</p>
  <p>As the words had tumbled from his lips, the side of Ludwig's nose had crinkled upward. An angry dog, ready to bite.</p>
  <p>Berwald opened his mouth, thought better of it, and looked away. He'd rather have the growl than the teeth. Timo shifted his weight, awkwardly, and Magnus seemed happy that he had not engaged in any of that conversation.</p>
  <p>Pathetic. It had gotten to the point where they were fighting over the heritage of a woman neither of them would ever meet.</p>
  <p>Nowadays, everything made Ludwig <em>angry</em>. Steps creaking at night, a storm that lasted too long, not finding what he wanted in the kitchen, a wrong look, a wrong word, a wrong motion. Ludwig had become as volatile as the mines outside.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig sat on the couch and drank now, every time that Berwald glanced his way Ludwig would make a show of slamming his glass down onto the table, making the point very clear :</p>
  <p>'Don't even look at me.'</p>
  <p>His fault.</p>
  <p>He had spent these past months trying to make Ludwig stay away from him, but he hadn't realized it would hurt so much once he actually succeeded.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had passed the point of avoiding him; Ludwig <em>hated</em> him.</p>
  <p>He wanted to try to explain that he hadn't meant it like that, that he ignored Ludwig now because Ludwig was the only thing out here in this miserable place that he cared about, even if that didn't make much sense.</p>
  <p>Just couldn't think of how to say it.</p>
  <p>Ludwig would have laughed at him.</p>
  <p>All these months...</p>
  <p>Sometimes, Berwald just felt like he'd been shot.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Summer.</p>
  <p>A warm day in June.</p>
  <p>They hadn't moved yet.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't even drag his miserable eyes up from the floor, let alone make a tactical decision regarding their whereabouts. If Timo wanted to go farther south or farther east, Berwald found himself oblivious.</p>
  <p>Ludwig left the kitchen whenever he walked in. The sound of the chair scraping the floor; that was his biggest worry right now.</p>
  <p>At least until <em>that </em>day.</p>
  <p>It started as briskly and abruptly as anyone could have imagined such a thing would. Taking them off guard.</p>
  <p>Timo came bursting in through the door, so hard and fast that Ludwig and Lukas actually reached out for their guns in the corner, and when he skidded to a halt before them, the look on his face was nothing Berwald could ever have placed.</p>
  <p>Wide eyes and a wider smile, breathless and red. Sunrise, in human form.</p>
  <p>"Didn't ya hear?" he finally said, in a voice that was as breathless as his face. "Weren't you listenin'?"</p>
  <p>Berwald shared a quick look with Magnus, who asked, tentatively, "Hear what?"</p>
  <p>Timo's smile could very well have broken his face. Berwald had never seen him like that.</p>
  <p>"Germans just invaded the Soviet Union."</p>
  <p>A short, unbearable silence.</p>
  <p>Magnus' mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. Lukas and Ludwig shared a quick look, and Ludwig shook his head a little, as if he had misheard.</p>
  <p>What?</p>
  <p>No time to think; Timo had skidded into the kitchen, grabbed the radio off the counter, and threw himself down at the table with it, flipping knobs until the static tuned in. Garbled words. They might have been clear, but Berwald was certain later on that he hadn't heard any of 'em.</p>
  <p>All he could see and hear was Timo, sitting the radio on the table and still smiling. Why was he smiling?</p>
  <p>The Germans and Reds had been friends, that was the whole point, that was why they had been fighting the Reds this past year, for Ludwig's sake, because killing Germans was too hard when one of your own men was German, so it was easier to go after the Reds when they had the same goal.</p>
  <p>The same side.</p>
  <p>Not anymore.</p>
  <p>Timo had always had a soft spot for the Germans—Ludwig standing here now was living proof—but a soft spot had suddenly turned into outright admiration, and it was more than a little uncomfortable.</p>
  <p>"Oh!" Timo suddenly breathed, as he hung over that radio and touched it with his palm, "I knew it would fuckin' happen, I knew it! You saw it comin', didn't you? I've been waiting for this ever since it all started! Germans marchin' on the Soviet Union. Best fuckin' army in the world! Finland's gonna catch up soon, you'll see!" He looked over his shoulder, at his silent companions, and said, "A bunch of guys already went down and listed themselves up in the SS! They're sending Jägers to train the others. I can't wait for this war to start up again."</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>Timo turned back to the radio, that awed smile still on his face, and it was so <em>quiet</em>.</p>
  <p>The Germans marching on the Soviet Union was salvation to Timo. The fall of the Soviet Union would suddenly be oblivion for Lukas and Magnus.</p>
  <p>Berwald opened his mouth, fell silent, and turned his eyes to the rifles in the corners. Oh, Christ—how many Reds had he killed already?</p>
  <p>Reds.</p>
  <p>They had been <em>Reds </em>when they had been aligned with Germany. And suddenly—</p>
  <p>Timo straightened up, a strange light in his eye, and maybe everything had been somewhat tense lately, or maybe everyone was just tired, or maybe all of them together had just become a tinderbox waiting for a spark, but when he opened his mouth and spoke, what he said lit up the room like an explosion.</p>
  <p>"I'm going to help fight the Soviets!"</p>
  <p>Because it wasn't, 'I'm going to go out on my own'. It was, 'I'm going to join up with the Germans.'</p>
  <p>Suddenly, the Reds they had been gunning down for over a year now had become the lesser of two evils.</p>
  <p>Honestly, Berwald didn't know how to feel about that.</p>
  <p>Finland meant everything to Timo, whether it was Axis or Allied or neutral. Timo would have defended Finland as fiercely if it had been Finland that had marched on the Soviet Union instead of the other way around.</p>
  <p>Creaking floorboards, as everyone shifted their weight.</p>
  <p>Timo, as expected, knew quite well what <em>he</em> was feeling, and made it known.</p>
  <p>"Well!" he exclaimed, as they all stood in dumb silence, "Let's head out, huh? We can join up with real soldiers now! They take volunteers, we can go down and get training and go out on the front lines! Can you imagine? Not sittin' around on our asses anymore, waiting to see what happens if we go here or we go there. Let's go, huh? We'll really be soldiers."</p>
  <p>Every time the word 'soldier' left Timo's lips, he sent a quick, admiring glance at Ludwig, who stood as still as the rest, as if just by looking at Ludwig Timo would somehow be able to emulate him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was a soldier, though. They weren't. Never had been. And Berwald, truly, hadn't ever wanted to be. The feeling wasn't his alone; Lukas and Magnus looked liked they'd been thrown into a freezing lake.</p>
  <p>All Berwald could think to do then was open his mouth and utter, "But we're not soldiers. That...wasn't what we got together t'do."</p>
  <p>Timo's breathless face was crossed by a swift shadow, but he quickly forced it away to turn hopeful eyes to Lukas and Magnus.</p>
  <p>Lukas just shook his head, arms suddenly crossed stiffly over his chest. Berwald could see then that Lukas had gone over to Magnus' side, leaving a gap between himself and Ludwig, perhaps subconsciously. Magnus, who had always been Timo's biggest admirer, scoffed aloud, and crinkled his nose.</p>
  <p>Quiet.</p>
  <p>The shadow came back.</p>
  <p>Electricity.</p>
  <p>Berwald saw them all in that instant as men who had run into each other several minutes before and had already decided they didn't like each other much. The way everyone was standing.</p>
  <p>In that odd silence, so heavy, Timo turned then to Ludwig, held out his arms beseechingly, and said, simply, "Ludwig!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig.</p>
  <p>And it felt like someone had kicked Berwald in the chest all over again when Ludwig stalked forward without hesitation, swung his fist around, and he and Timo clapped hold of each other's hands in a show of solidarity, seemingly in complete agreement.</p>
  <p>Ludwig. German. Axis, whether he wanted to be or not. Ludwig had run, but if it came down to the wire his loyalty would be towards his motherland. Ludwig hated his government, but loved his soldiers. Ludwig wouldn't fight Germans. Wouldn't turn on 'em.</p>
  <p>But the Reds were friends now. The Finns had joined the Germans.</p>
  <p>Wait! Couldn't be right. Couldn't be.</p>
  <p>Berwald ran a hand over the bridge of his nose, gawking at Timo's back, still stuck in the shock of disbelief.</p>
  <p>Timo and Ludwig's hands were still clasped.</p>
  <p>What could he say? What was he supposed to do? What did they expect him to do? Lukas and Magnus kept watching him. Waiting. And now! Sure, <em>now</em> they wanted him to take over, because this was the dirty work of being a leader, wasn't it, trying to keep men together who were suddenly on different sides. This was when they remembered him, when they didn't want to sully their hands.</p>
  <p>He faltered under their expectations. Couldn't seem to find his voice.</p>
  <p>How could he suddenly turn to Timo and say, 'Your country is on the wrong side now, we can't fight for it anymore'? How could he look at Ludwig and say, 'We have to kill Germans now, because we're on the side of the Reds'?</p>
  <p>All those men they had already killed, all of them, were allies now. Friends. Each one dead was a man now that might have one day changed the course of the entire war towards the Allies.</p>
  <p>The little world they had built up around themselves crumbled. Crumbled, because, in the end, everyone only extended their hand for someone who shared their efforts.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Magnus had helped in Finland because the Soviets had been aligned with the Germans, and the Germans were who they wanted to see bleed when everything was said and done. Berwald had done the same. Timo had only sabotaged that German train then because Berwald had asked him to, and Timo hadn't wanted to watch because even when the Germans and Soviets were allied Timo could still look back on it and feel that the Germans were friends. He had said so himself, hadn't he? 'I knew it!'</p>
  <p>Everyone looked out for themselves.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Magnus no longer shared Timo's goal.</p>
  <p>Lukas put Berwald in the spotlight suddenly by saying, while still looking at Timo, "You were right. We should think about moving. Shouldn't we, Berwald?"</p>
  <p>Everyone was looking at him then.</p>
  <p>They stood in a horrible, thick silence, Magnus and Lukas on one side and Timo and Ludwig on the other, and for once, Berwald knew what it felt like to be caught in the center of an argument.</p>
  <p>Ludwig and Timo wanted to fight the Russians. Lukas and Magnus wanted to fight the Germans.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>Reaching up and resting a palm against his forehead, he closed his eyes and bowed his head, and took a great breath to gather his thoughts. Leader. That was what he had called himself. Now he had to lead, and it was a frightening notion, because no matter what he decided, someone would be disappointed in him. Someone would lose faith in him. Someone would hate him.</p>
  <p>Truthfully, he thought it better to fight against the Germans, and not the Russians, who had aligned with the Allies, although not for righteous reasons. Fight the Germans, who had gotten out of control, easy enough to think it, but, god...</p>
  <p>He could deal with Magnus and Lukas never speaking to him again. He could deal with Timo's hard feelings. But not Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Not Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Ludwig already thought that Berwald had turned against him. To go farther now would have Ludwig screaming ulterior motive.</p>
  <p>Couldn't make anyone happy.</p>
  <p>Well, then.</p>
  <p>Finally, he found his voice.</p>
  <p>"If no one can agree," he began, slowly and deliberately, "then we're not doing anything for now. We're not movin'. We're not joining up with anyone. And we're not goin' out at all until we figure something out."</p>
  <p>Having these four angry men try to sit down and talk peacefully was folly, but he tried it anyway. It worked about as well as he could have expected.</p>
  <p>Magnus straightened up, a look of outrage upon his face. Timo looked on the verge of stomping his foot and letting his temper loose. Ludwig and Lukas just stood there, silent and foul.</p>
  <p>Feeling his heart racing and a horrible rush of anxiety, Berwald straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, and made sure that the matter was considered settled.</p>
  <p>"No one goes anywhere. We stay together."</p>
  <p>Magnus rebelled first, as usual, and sent him a quick, spiteful, "Easy for you to say! You got a country to go back to, don't'cha?"</p>
  <p>Timo was quick to follow. "That's not for <em>you</em> to decide! After what the Soviets did to <em>my</em> hometown—"</p>
  <p>Lukas retorted, "The Germans are doing the same to Norway!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig bristled. "As if the Soviets are really going to come runnin' to the rescue!"</p>
  <p>And then everyone was arguing again.</p>
  <p>A horrible wave of defeat. Some leader <em>he</em> was.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Timo were screaming at each other. Screaming. He had never heard Timo scream, not like that. Close to each other's faces, Timo waving his hand in Magnus' face, and Magnus was leaning forward, trying to be louder and more aggressive and yet somehow looking so <em>hurt</em>.</p>
  <p>Hurt that Timo was not on his side.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Ludwig were far apart and yet sniping at each other, and that was a first too, because Lukas and Ludwig had always gotten along so well. It had been Lukas who had tried so hard to befriend Ludwig, and yet now it was Lukas who was shaking his head fervently, shooting down every attempt that Ludwig made, and in retaliation Ludwig just raised his voice and started shouting, aggressively and maybe anxiously.</p>
  <p>Apprehensive and defensive because Lukas was turning against him.</p>
  <p>Everyone was fighting.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>Ludwig stepped forward, brow low and eyes angry, and Lukas pursed his lips, and then turned his back. Lukas turned his back on Ludwig. Magnus came too close or screamed too loud or hit too far below the belt, and Timo pulled back his hand and slapped Magnus across the face. Timo slapped Magnus.</p>
  <p>What was happening to them? Friends turned into enemies, and he, the <em>leader</em>, just stood there, watching them disintegrate because he was too afraid of earning someone's disdain.</p>
  <p>Someone said something that Berwald didn't even register, and Timo had suddenly rounded on Magnus and looked at them all in turn, shouting, "So they can do what they want now, huh? Just 'cause they switched sides? They can just have Finland now if they want to? They're good guys now, or something?"</p>
  <p>Magnus opened his mouth to retort, and fell short under Timo's verbal trap. They all knew better than to answer that one. Didn't need to, in a way, because essentially maybe that was exactly what they were saying.</p>
  <p>The only thing Berwald could do was watch them, because he felt too shitty to try and pull out pitiful excuses and rationalizations. In some way, Timo was right. War was never fair, though. Timo learned that now the hard way.</p>
  <p>"So you're gonna leave now? You'll all fight against me, huh? So! See how much I care, then!"</p>
  <p>Berwald wanted to say, 'It's not like that.'</p>
  <p>It was, though.</p>
  <p>And then, oh, <em>fuck</em>, Timo started cryin', out of frustration and desperation and because Timo just loved Finland <em>that</em> much, because the thought of his country suddenly meaning less than others hurt, because he hated the Reds so much that crying was the only thing he could even think to do.</p>
  <p>It was around then that Berwald suddenly wished he could just go home. He wanted out, for the first time since he'd started.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stood there beside Timo, fists clenched at his sides and face red, lips pursed so that he wouldn't lash out, and it was Lukas who came forward then and started up the ruckus.</p>
  <p>"Any friend of the Germans is no friend of mine."</p>
  <p>Ludwig stalked in front of Timo, hell etched on his face, but before he could open his mouth Berwald felt his own hell break loose.</p>
  <p>He couldn't stand it anymore. His patience had broken.</p>
  <p>He remembered punching the wall, if more because of the pain of it than the actual motion, and he remembered stomping his foot and finding his voice.</p>
  <p>"We're not doin' <em>anything</em>! Not a goddamn <em>thing</em>! If all yer gonna do is stand there and fight with each other then what's the point? Let's just pack up and go back home <em>now</em>! You all can go join the armies if ya want, and maybe you'll get to shoot at each other one day! If we're just a buncha kids, then let's just go home! None of ya even know what you want anymore! Won't even talk to each other! If you wanna go off on your own, that's fine. Go! I won't stop ya! Go on!"</p>
  <p>That was probably the most he'd spoken in months.</p>
  <p>There was a hole in the wall.</p>
  <p>For a merciful second, they all fell still, even restless Timo and Magnus, who finally broke each other's blazing gazes and averted their eyes to other places. Magnus' cheek was red. Lukas stared off into space, and Ludwig ducked his head and seemed to find the floor offensive.</p>
  <p>Berwald gave one last effort.</p>
  <p>"No one wins. Nobody's gonna be happy after. So what's the point?"</p>
  <p>Point. There was no point in any of this. No point in war. No point for any of them.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Magnus wouldn't find their countries to be the same when they returned. Timo's was shredded. Ludwig's was gone.</p>
  <p>He could understand Ludwig's absolute refusal to fight against his countrymen. He could. And maybe he could understand why Timo wanted so badly to take some shots at the Russians while they were down, but did his desire for revenge burn so badly that he was willing to neatly ignore the encroaching Axis to do so? To choose one evil over another? Did Timo want to see Russia bleed so badly that he was perfectly alright with a German victory?</p>
  <p>He could understand Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Timo squinted his eyes and crinkled his nose, brushed away the wetness around his eyes, huffed in a few wavering breaths, and stood himself up straight.</p>
  <p>Firm. Unbending.</p>
  <p>"I don't give a shit whose side they're on now," Timo spat, "They're still in my fuckin' country, and I'm gonna keep killin' them, Allied or Axis or whatever they wanna call themselves. You all can do what you want, but I won't fight any Germans, not as long as they're fightin' the Russians. You do what you want. Finland's fighting, and so am I."</p>
  <p>Magnus' fists had loosened a little at his sides, and no doubt those words hurt. Berwald had sworn, for a second there, that Lukas' hand had twitched down towards his belt, as if searching for his gun.</p>
  <p>Deteriorating. The ground was sinking beneath them.</p>
  <p>Those words stung Magnus and Lukas, so it was uncomfortable that those same words somehow made Berwald feel more in tune with Timo as he had spoken them. Timo and Ludwig were the same. Not fair to back one person for loving their country and doubting another for doing the same. Timo and Ludwig's love for their countries didn't change just because sides did.</p>
  <p>What a terrible situation. Not everyone could get out of there with their feelings and pride intact.</p>
  <p>Didn't even take that long!</p>
  <p>Deftly ignoring every single word that Berwald had uttered, Magnus opened his mouth, started screaming, and Ludwig screamed, too. Timo and Lukas were going at it with each other then, because apparently one hadn't been enough for either of them.</p>
  <p>As if Berwald wasn't there at all.</p>
  <p>A break in the ruckus, a breather of sorts for tired throats, led to the worst thing that had been said all day. A short silence that led to suffocation.</p>
  <p>Lukas scoffed, and what he said then, with a crinkled nose, was meant to wound.</p>
  <p>"Fuckin' Nazis."</p>
  <p>And did it ever.</p>
  <p>Ludwig went from still to fury in about three seconds.</p>
  <p>There was a long silence, and then Ludwig took a stalking step forward, and Berwald was pretty sure that Ludwig would have punched someone, anyone, if Timo hadn't reached out, twisted in fist in Ludwig's shirt, and hauled him backwards mid-step. Ludwig looked like he was ready to go back to the old days and show them that he could still take all of them out if he had half a mind to, but Timo's grip was an anchor of sorts, and finally he relented, eyes still firmly upon Lukas, taking a step backwards.</p>
  <p>Conceding, if only by not knocking them out.</p>
  <p>It was there then. Berwald's greatest fear :</p>
  <p>Timo and Ludwig standing side by side, scoffing to each other, and then turning on their heels to storm out.</p>
  <p>The two he had cared about the most.</p>
  <p>And it happened pretty much just like that. Ludwig lifted up his chin, let out a gruff huff of air, and sent Magnus the foulest look Berwald had ever seen cross Ludwig's face. Lukas didn't even get a glance; maybe Ludwig didn't possess a look terrifying enough for how he felt. Timo kept that grip on Ludwig, and they quickly turned their backs on those who had once been friends. They slammed the door so hard behind them that the wood in the corner splintered.</p>
  <p>They stayed in that bedroom for hours, and only came out when they felt like fighting some more.</p>
  <p>And yet, even now, even though Ludwig had been angry at <em>all </em>of them, Berwald still found himself glancing towards Magnus and thinking, 'No more Hamlet and Horatio.' He would have laughed, maybe, if he hadn't felt so sick. No more Magnus and Ludwig. Magnus had crossed Ludwig more than he had in that spat.</p>
  <p>All things considered, Berwald should very well have found himself in best standing, right after Timo. Lukas may as well have signed his death warrant as far as Ludwig was concerned.</p>
  <p>For the rest of that day, Lukas and Magnus refused to speak German, as if trying very hard to let Ludwig and Timo know exactly who their aggression was towards. Ludwig just held his chin up high and pretended that they weren't there at all. Timo spoke loudly, in German, just to irritate them.</p>
  <p>Berwald just sat on the fuckin' porch and wished he could punch every single one of them until they stopped arguing.</p>
  <p>Inside, every so often, they started screaming at each other again.</p>
  <p>He saw Magnus stalk out later, when the night was well on, and his black eye was fairly obvious. Whether it had been Timo or Ludwig that had given it to him, however, was less obvious. Both of 'em probably could have made a living as boxers.</p>
  <p>Ludwig came out a while later, too, and fell still there, as if surprised to see Berwald at all.</p>
  <p>A deep, throaty sound of distaste.</p>
  <p>His heart hammered so hard he felt sick. He couldn't handle Ludwig hating him. Ludwig meant more than any of this going on around him. If Ludwig had said, 'Let's go back to Sweden,' he probably would have gone. As long as Ludwig went.</p>
  <p>Hardly better than a dream now.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, still aggressive and agitated, stomped out, turned to look down at him, and finally barked, "Well! See you ran out without gettin' your hands dirty in any of it!"</p>
  <p>He didn't acknowledge the furious Ludwig, and stared out at the lake.</p>
  <p>Ignoring Ludwig just seemed to make him angrier.</p>
  <p>"You're not talkin' to me either, huh? So! Who cares! You haven't been talkin' to me this whole time now!" Fuming, Ludwig swirled around and kicked a wooden beam in a fit, and snarled, "Ah! Who needs ya? If you don't wanna talk to me, that's fine, but I sure as hell wish you'd tell me why. What did I do, huh? Why won't you talk to me? What did I do to piss you off, huh?"</p>
  <p>That wasn't what he had wanted. None of this was.</p>
  <p>He stayed silent.</p>
  <p>Berwald noticed, then, that Ludwig kept on rubbing his hand when he wasn't thinking about it. Magnus' black eye was solved. Ludwig would probably try to give him one in a minute.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stomped his foot, acting now like the teenager he really was, and spat, "Can't you talk? Huh? Won't you say something? I'm tired of you just starin' at me! I can't read your mind, you know! If you wanna say something, say it, because you're making me crazy! I can't figure you out! <em>Say </em>something!"</p>
  <p>He <em>tried</em>, he really did. Always had. But what was there to say now? No answer he had would satisfy Ludwig.</p>
  <p>So, in the end, all he muttered when he opened his mouth was, "Something."</p>
  <p>If Ludwig turned and kicked him in the face for being a smartass, he probably deserved it.</p>
  <p>Somehow, someway, that stupid response seemed to diffuse some of Ludwig's fury. It would have acerbated his own.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, even now, even cast aside and so angry, still couldn't seem to cause intentional harm. In that little rant, Ludwig could have tossed out so many things that were meant to wound. He hadn't. Ludwig's kindness would get him into trouble one day.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stopped pitching his fit then, and threw himself down onto the steps next to Berwald. The gap between them was painfully obvious. Ludwig wouldn't have left a millimeter of space between them before.</p>
  <p>An uncomfortable silence, and then Ludwig finally grumbled, mostly to himself, "I don't even know whose side I should be on. It shouldn't'a happened this way."</p>
  <p>He didn't know why he said what he said then.</p>
  <p>He was agitated, too.</p>
  <p>"Don't wanna fight anymore? Then go home. This isn't for kids."</p>
  <p>Wrong thing to say, apparently, as agitated as Ludwig already was.</p>
  <p>Ludwig twisted at the waist, pulled back his fist as best he could for the short distance, and finally punched Berwald in the nose as he had no doubt wanted to these past few months.</p>
  <p>A sharp pain, and the rim of his glasses dug into his skin.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's kindness, alright.</p>
  <p>His own fist wrenched up automatically to punch back, but he forced it still and put his hand over his nose instead, as blood started dripping down. Couldn't hit Ludwig—he had earned that one. Anyway, as soon as Ludwig realized what he had done, his face fell a little, as if he hadn't really meant to. Hadn't looked so regretful after punching Magnus.</p>
  <p>Instead of standing and stomping off, Ludwig just sat there on the step, staring over at Berwald with a strange look, and then he spat a curse and ran his left hand over his knuckles.</p>
  <p>Berwald knew his words had struck a nerve; Ludwig <em>couldn't </em>go home. Maybe not ever again. Even far away from home, country still commanded the love of men. Asking Ludwig to turn against it, no matter what state it was in, might have been too much. He should have been more considerate, perhaps, but Ludwig's country wasn't the only one in the world.</p>
  <p>He didn't speak again, holding his aching nose in his hand and staring off at the lake.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked lost. Probably should have tried to bullshit some comfort, but he wasn't any good at that. Still, Ludwig kept glancing over at him, as if waiting for Berwald to actually try.</p>
  <p>...nah.</p>
  <p>When his moping and silence finally got old, however, Ludwig was quick to let him know.</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned to him out of the blue, face stern, and said, "Knock it off, won't you? You're not even the one that should be upset. What the hell do <em>you </em>care, who fights who? You're a real bastard. Sometimes I can't <em>stand </em>you."</p>
  <p>He was taken aback by Ludwig's harsh look and harsher voice, and knew that his face had probably paled a bit.</p>
  <p>Ludwig being mad at him, Ludwig detesting him, Ludwig not trusting him, was as terrifying as the prospect of the sun going out one day and never coming on again.</p>
  <p>The war was speeding up, and it would probably be over soon. Ludwig would leave. Not much time left together. All the same, until then, he coulda died if Ludwig hated him. If Ludwig left feeling nothing but acrimony towards him. If Ludwig would have regretted ever looking at him in the first place. Thinking it had been bad enough, but hearing Ludwig say it was close to devastating.</p>
  <p>He felt his hands clenching together, swallowing in an effort to keep face, and he turned his eyes back out to the woods, as the rain pounded away.</p>
  <p>Terror.</p>
  <p>He felt like he sat there forever, breathing too hard through his sore nose, relying on the dark for composure, and, in all honesty, some pitiful part of him felt a little like crying.</p>
  <p>He didn't.</p>
  <p>In the distance, the lights on the lake rippled and danced with the drops of rain.</p>
  <p>A sudden, low sigh beside of him, and a gruff scoff.</p>
  <p>"Hell. I didn't mean to say it like that."</p>
  <p>Before he could answer, before his trotting heart could give him the adrenaline needed to look over, there was a warmth on his shoulder. Ludwig had slumped over, and rested his head there. Oh—he wanted, more than anything, to reach up and pull him in closer, but he choked.</p>
  <p>Scared.</p>
  <p>He just sat there, and now maybe it was Ludwig who was scared, at his lack of response.</p>
  <p>A whisper.</p>
  <p>"Can we just start over?"</p>
  <p>Starting over—that was the only way to do things, because so much had been said and done these past months that there wasn't really any other way to get rid of it except to start over.</p>
  <p>He never did gather the courage to lift his arm and throw it around Ludwig's shoulder, but he did finally drop his head down, letting his jaw rest on Ludwig's forehead. That was good enough. Ludwig exhaled, and Berwald had no doubt that he was smiling, if only a little.</p>
  <p>Starting over.</p>
  <p>It seemed that he and Ludwig got on better after they punched each other for a while. Wouldn't complain too much.</p>
  <p>Ludwig pulled back a while later, and sent Berwald one of those old smiles as he held out a hand.</p>
  <p>"I'm Ludwig," he said, quite seriously, and Berwald almost smiled as he took it.</p>
  <p>Almost.</p>
  <p>"Berwald."</p>
  <p>The handshake between them was a little odd, because this was nothing close to how they had actually met. All the same, it felt alright. Better than Ludwig head-butting him, anyway.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's smile widened as he added, "What's a handsome guy like you doin' in a shitty place like this?"</p>
  <p>He couldn't help it; he laughed.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's voice was weary when he spoke again.</p>
  <p>"I really can't stand you, you know? I meant that. Sometimes, I just can't stand you. You're a weird bastard."</p>
  <p>Was he smiling? He was pretty sure he was.</p>
  <p>"Look who's talkin', you lousy son of a bitch."</p>
  <p>Ludwig reached out, straightened up Berwald's glasses, and pressed gentle fingers into his nose.</p>
  <p>"I'm sorry."</p>
  <p>Berwald winced a little, but shrugged a shoulder all the same.</p>
  <p>"You've hit me harder than that. Don't think yer sorry anyway, ya bastard."</p>
  <p>The hand left his nose and fell to the back of his neck, and Ludwig lifted a prim chin as he said, "Well. You're right. I'm not. I'm not sorry at all."</p>
  <p>Ludwig leaned over, and put his head back down on Berwald's shoulder as they snipped back and forth.</p>
  <p>Oh, <em>god</em>. Heaven.</p>
  <p>Starting over was pretty easy. They didn't fight anymore. They couldn't—they were brothers. No matter what sides they took. Months of ill-will, forgotten.</p>
  <p>The pain in his nose didn't bother him much anymore.</p>
  <p>They sat out and listened to the rain, and when his head dropped, nodding off with sleep, Ludwig reached up and placed his hand on the back of his neck. Sleep wore off quickly, that was for sure. Fingers, running between the start of his hairline and the collar of his shirt. Slow, gentle circles, forcing an involuntary shiver.</p>
  <p>Why wasn't Ludwig scared? He couldn't even get his hands to work.</p>
  <p>He looked over at Ludwig, and asked, "Aren't you worried about what'll happen?"</p>
  <p>If one of them got shot. What happened when the war ended.</p>
  <p>But Ludwig just stared over at him, a placid smile shadowing his face, and shook his head.</p>
  <p>Nothing scared Ludwig.</p>
  <p>They sat for hours, and that night, for the first time in so long, Ludwig crept into his bed.</p>
  <p>And that was the first night that, in the midst of restless sleep, Ludwig rolled over on top of his chest, grabbed his face in warm hands, and kissed him first upon the nose. A hesitation that felt like years, heavy breathing and warmth, and then Ludwig lowered down and kissed his lips.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't drunk—he had kissed him because he had <em>wanted </em>to.</p>
  <p>It was a lot easier to sleep afterwards, when he finally got his hands moving and grabbed Ludwig by the back of the neck to keep him there. The feel of warm skin beneath his fingers.</p>
  <p>If Ludwig would only love him until the end of the war, then so be it. He could live with that.</p>
  <p>They said, 'take what you can get.'</p>
  <p>He did.</p>
  <p>He liked starting over.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. That Lucky Old Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 16</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>That Lucky Old Sun</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Sunlight.</p>
  <p>The best days of his life.</p>
  <p>Oh, yeah, the others were suffering, absolutely, but Berwald wasn't ashamed to say that he couldn't have cared less about them if he had actually given an effort to. Not laying in bed, for that very first sunrise, and having someone beside of him who fully intended to stay there from now on. Not seeing the pale light of dawn in Ludwig's hair.</p>
  <p>Dust in the light.</p>
  <p>The first time he had ever woken up knowing that somebody was there to give a damn about him. The first time he'd ever woken up knowing that somebody cared about him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, early riser that he was, was fully awake at dawn, but didn't get up that time. He just laid there, staring at Berwald until he too was awake, and the staring contest that happened then was hardly awkward. Just silent affection. Berwald, half-asleep and feeling subdued and calm, reached out a heavy hand, and rested it on Ludwig's cheek. Ludwig smiled, brightly, and stared at him as though he were the only thing left in the world. No one had ever looked at him like that.</p>
  <p>That was the first time in the duration of this long, arduous dance that he had been able to make his hands work. To reach Ludwig before Ludwig reached him. It had taken Ludwig acting first, yeah, but he was proud of himself all the same. Nothing felt better than running his fingers over Ludwig's face. Knowing that this man stayed beside of him because he wanted to. Feeling warmth. Safety. Security.</p>
  <p>That, for once, something was <em>his</em>.</p>
  <p>He wished that he could have stayed there in that bed all day, with Ludwig at his side, and the day after that, too. To be in a tranquil environment and ignore the fighting going on right outside the door.</p>
  <p>Nothing lasted forever though, and it was Ludwig who sat up first, with a sigh, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.</p>
  <p>Regret.</p>
  <p>Leaving the bedroom was upsetting, and for more than just having to leave Ludwig's side.</p>
  <p>Upsetting because setting foot into the living room reminded Berwald quite harshly of the situation they had all found themselves in. Upsetting because everyone was still fighting. Upsetting because brothers had turned against each other. Upsetting because, as soon as he crossed that threshold, that beautiful look of serenity on Ludwig's face hardened into one of disdain and silent anger.</p>
  <p>That Ludwig wasn't <em>happy</em>, outside the door. That Ludwig refused to be in any given room if Lukas was there, too. That Ludwig turned up his chin and slunk away anytime Magnus showed his face. That none of them were talking to each other.</p>
  <p>That Berwald couldn't do a damn thing about it.</p>
  <p>Every time they passed, Lukas carried on calmly, as if Ludwig had never been there at all. Magnus watched him go, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed and lips pursed, and when Ludwig had gone, Magnus usually whirled around and kicked the wall.</p>
  <p>Berwald had to give Ludwig all due credit for being stubborn, because it was becoming clearer with every passing day that Ludwig was not going to bend first and apologize for anything that had been said or done. If Lukas or Magnus wanted to talk to Ludwig again, <em>ever</em>, then they were going to have to make the first move, because Ludwig was doing an exceedingly impressive job of pretending they didn't exist.</p>
  <p>Berwald hoped that he never found himself on Ludwig's bad side again.</p>
  <p>Timo, perhaps just as stubborn as Ludwig, was also doing an impressive job of keeping a tight grip on that anger.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't help but wonder if Ludwig and Timo would end up hurting Magnus and Lukas one day, from the alarmingly intense way they sat down together and whispered. Plotting and muttering. Yikes. Berwald shuddered, sometimes, just looking at them. Those two.</p>
  <p>The others were still angry, too, but they were considerably less threatening. Lukas didn't talk to anyone, not anyone, and Magnus moped around in corners and looked miserable, unshaven and messy as he was.</p>
  <p>Berwald had thought, honestly, that Magnus would be the first one to break, as desperate for attention as he always was.</p>
  <p>But he wasn't.</p>
  <p>Actually, the one he least expected was the one to make the first effort at peace.</p>
  <p>Lukas.</p>
  <p>Somehow, Lukas and Ludwig managed to make up before anyone else. Even after Lukas had called Ludwig something he shouldn't have.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't there to witness their reconciliation; all he knew was that he came into the hall one morning, and saw them sitting on the loveseat, murmuring to each other in a manner that was reminiscent of doves. Lukas had slung an arm over Ludwig's shoulder, as he had they first time they had ever met, and Ludwig had let his legs splay out in what was obviously contentment.</p>
  <p>Maybe they had started over, too.</p>
  <p>Berwald wondered what Lukas had said, that first time, to diffuse Ludwig. What words had come out of his mouth to erase that other word. How he had approached Ludwig and gotten him to stay there long enough to speak to him.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell. Knowin' Ludwig, kind Ludwig, Lukas had probably just walked up to him and said, 'Hi.' Ludwig was stubborn, but couldn't really seem to stay angry for long. He could keep up the silent treatment for eternity, but only half-heartedly and maybe suffering the entire while.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Timo had made up, too, apparently. Berwald saw them in the kitchen, not quite as cozy as Ludwig and Lukas had been; rather, they stood on separate ends of the room, cautious of each other and quite tense, but speaking to each other all the same. Better than nothing.</p>
  <p>Magnus had yet to cast aside his pride and apologize to anyone. Berwald gave him two weeks. Timo and Ludwig could be kinda scary. Who wanted to wait and let them mull things over and then see what unholy revenge they came up with? To let them simmer and get ideas.</p>
  <p>Two weeks, tops, and Magnus would fold.</p>
  <p>Berwald waited, and, in the meantime, Ludwig grabbed his collar quite roughly and dragged him into corners when the others weren't around.</p>
  <p>As far as for what Ludwig came up with for <em>him</em>, Berwald was perfectly content to let him mull on it.</p>
  <p>The more ideas, the better.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Twelve days.</p>
  <p>Magnus lasted twelve days.</p>
  <p>Berwald wished he'd'a put a damn bet on it with Timo, because he had come close. Actually, to be precise, Magnus lasted eleven days before he crawled back to Timo, and twelve before Berwald saw him trailing behind Ludwig like a slug.</p>
  <p>Timo had been quick to forgive, because Timo loved Magnus in the end, but Ludwig carried on quite primly, ignoring the shadow behind him.</p>
  <p>Berwald was around to witness this attempt, and didn't waste it; he stood in the open frame of the front door, and watched Magnus slinking morosely behind Ludwig in the living room, as Ludwig kept walking around in circles. Finally, realizing that Ludwig wasn't going to stop and turn to look at him, Magnus spoke up.</p>
  <p>A low, sad whisper.</p>
  <p>"Hey... Ludwig."</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't care much for this reconciliation, not really, and cared even less to hear Magnus beseeching Ludwig in that tone of voice. That old jealousy was still under the surface, even though it was in <em>his</em> bed that Ludwig slept. He fell still all the same, and leaned against the doorframe, turning his back to them and trying to pretend that he was off in space and not paying attention.</p>
  <p>Magnus tried again, when there was no answer.</p>
  <p>"Ludwig."</p>
  <p>A silence.</p>
  <p>And then finally, a sharp inhale, and Ludwig said, somewhat stiffly, "What do you want? I'm busy."</p>
  <p>Busy? Walkin' in circles like he was.</p>
  <p>Berwald stared off into the forests, and tried to imagine the looks on their faces. Ludwig, chin held high and posture perfectly straight, eyes narrowed and brow high. Magnus, slumped and defeated, shadows under his eyes and hair a bit lackluster.</p>
  <p>"Listen, Ludwig," Magnus finally began, anxious and probably a bit terrified, "Listen. I just wanted... You know, I mean... That is, I'm—all the shit I said, you know? I didn't really mean it. I get mad, you know."</p>
  <p>When they spoke to each other alone, they always used their Jutland dialect. Not this time. Magnus was speaking German now, because he was desperate to let Ludwig know that he apparently wanted to kiss and make up.</p>
  <p>Berwald curled his lip at that; a bad mental image.</p>
  <p>Ludwig gave a prim, uninterested, "Hm."</p>
  <p>Magnus tried again, voice ever lower and scratchier and all the more miserable.</p>
  <p>"<em>Oh.</em> Hey, I say lots of dumb things. You know that already. I'm a big idiot, remember? So don't, you know... Don't take it that way. Didn't mean it. Really. I...I can't really stand ya not talkin' to me. I can't. I just... I just wanna go back to the way it was. Even if we don't, you know, agree or anythin', can't we still talk?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig was still.</p>
  <p>And then Magnus heaved a sigh of absolute, complete surrender, and submitted. He must have looked pitiful as he did it.</p>
  <p>"Alright, alright! I'm sorry. There, I said it. I'm sorry. Okay? I... I miss you. Ah, hell, I-I miss ya so fuckin' much. I hate fightin' with you. Please talk to me again. Please. Anyway, you already punched me. What else do you want? I'll let you punch me again, if that'll make you feel better. I'll let you do anything you want, if you just fuckin' <em>talk</em> to me. Please talk to me. I'm <em>sorry</em>."</p>
  <p>Berwald resisted the urge to scoff, and even though it did not fit in with his desire for his men to all get along, some part of him still hoped that Ludwig would utter a prim sigh of disdain and turn away without a word. Well. For that first, burning second, anyway. After that, something in him slumped as much as it had in Magnus, and he wasn't sure why he felt so <em>sad</em>, then. That tone of Magnus' voice. Begging like that, because he missed someone.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>Maybe Ludwig felt it too, and maybe he couldn't really hold grudges that well after all, for after only a second of hesitation, he heard Ludwig's deep, scratchy voice rumble, lowly, "You're damn right about <em>that</em>. You sure are <em>sorry</em>."</p>
  <p>Another hesitation, and then a sigh.</p>
  <p>"Oh. It's alright. I shouldn't've gotten so bent up about it, I guess. You know, I don't think I was ever even really that mad at ya."</p>
  <p>A twinge of disappointment.</p>
  <p>Magnus was surely smiling now, but Berwald couldn't really bring himself to turn around and look.</p>
  <p>Magnus' voice was so much brighter, so much happier, so much more, well, <em>Magnus</em>, when he said, "Whew! That's a relief. Way you are, if I don't clear the air now, somethin' might happen to me while I'm asleep! You can be a little scary."</p>
  <p>Ludwig laughed.</p>
  <p>A rustle. No doubt they were hugging now.</p>
  <p>Berwald tried to pretend that their hug wasn't nearly as intimate as the insecure part of him imagined it was. That Magnus' fingers weren't clenched in Ludwig's shirt. That Ludwig wasn't resting his head on Magnus' shoulder.</p>
  <p>Then he heard Ludwig suddenly murmur, rather gently, "I still kinda wanna punch you again, though."</p>
  <p>Magnus quickly backtracked with a high-pitched, "Too late! Already shook on it."</p>
  <p>"Damn."</p>
  <p>It got a little quiet, then, and when Berwald finally turned around, Ludwig and Magnus were just standin' there, staring at each other, and the look in Magnus' eyes was still so <em>threatening</em> to Berwald, even though Ludwig slept beside of him and not Magnus. Magnus loved Ludwig, of that he had no doubt. The manner of that love, though, always scared him to think about. No matter how hard he tried to be confident.</p>
  <p>All the same, despite Berwald's insecurities, the tense air started to settle, for the first time in weeks. At least until they were forced to figure out what the hell came next. Then things got a little awkward again.</p>
  <p>"Well," Timo said, as they sat in a room together for the first time since the sides had flipped, "Now that we're all <em>friends</em> again, can we talk?"</p>
  <p>Timo seemed enthusiastic, although the word 'friends' had been a little terse, at best. His energy put the others on guard. It was hard enough to argue with Timo, but nearly impossible to do so when it was about anything having to do with Finland. Timo's passion was intimidating.</p>
  <p>Somehow, though, they all managed to sit down and shut up long enough to make eye contact with each other.</p>
  <p>For the first time, it was Berwald who managed to speak up before the others.</p>
  <p>"Well. We're not splittin' up. We stay t'gether, or we all go home. That was what we agreed on. If one of us wants to quit, we all quit."</p>
  <p>He thought he saw, out of the corner of his vision, Timo roll his eyes. Irritated him more than it stung, but he ignored it all the same.</p>
  <p>Ludwig said, immediately, "I won't kill any Germans."</p>
  <p>This time, no fight started, and everyone attempted to speak in a civil manner. Surprisingly.</p>
  <p>Magnus said, as calmly as was possible for him, "Well, I won't kill any Reds."</p>
  <p>An uncomfortable silence.</p>
  <p>Lukas raised his hand then, like they were in fuckin' class, and Berwald actually had to point at him before he spoke.</p>
  <p>Ugh.</p>
  <p>"I have an idea," Lukas said, easily.</p>
  <p>They waited. Silence.</p>
  <p>Magnus prodded, "Yeah?"</p>
  <p>Lukas looked around at them in turn, and finally started voicing his 'idea'. "Well, since we aren't going to change our minds anytime soon about whose side we're on, and since it's not fair to force someone to fight someone they don't want to, <em>and</em> since we shouldn't split up after all this time, what if we compromise?" He turned his eyes to Magnus, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You and I can go together and work with the Soviets"—Timo's nose crinkled distastefully, but he stayed silent—"and Timo and Ludwig can go work with the Finns. Berwald can go with whatever group he wants to. We come back to a meeting place at the end of the day, or whenever, and we all come home together. We drink together, we talk to each other like we always have, and when we're out, we mind our own business. How about that? That way nobody's feelings get hurt, and nobody has to go against any countrymen. What do you think?"</p>
  <p>A short hesitation, as they looked around at each other.</p>
  <p>Berwald looked down at his shoes, lips pushed out a bit, and couldn't help but think that that seemed completely and entirely counterproductive. As many Reds as Timo and Ludwig killed, Magnus and Lukas would kill an equal amount of Germans. How did that solve anything? They cancelled each other out, and what was the point of that? What good would that do to anyone?</p>
  <p>But...</p>
  <p>It was Timo who somehow heaved a sigh, and said, "I can agree to that."</p>
  <p>"Me too," Magnus added, perhaps with a little relief that Timo hadn't gotten angry again.</p>
  <p>Berwald glanced up at Ludwig, who seemed to consider everything as pointless as Berwald did. He was staring at the wall ahead, arms crossed and lips pursed, and Berwald could see right off how damn tired he looked. Ludwig was tired of killing. Tired of fighting. Tired of being here. Ludwig wanted to go home, wherever it was that home may have been.</p>
  <p>Still, though, Ludwig would never be the one to 'quit'. Not him. He was too proud to be the one that said it was over, and have the others always remember him as a coward for it. Too stubborn.</p>
  <p>So, Ludwig shrugged a shoulder and muttered, "Yeah. Sure. Fine."</p>
  <p>Then they all looked at Berwald, and he didn't have much of a choice but to say, "Alright, then. We know what to do. Nobody goes off without tellin' someone." He shot a very pointed look at Lukas, who nodded complacently, and then at Timo, who nodded with much less enthusiasm. "And we go in pairs. Timo doesn't go anywhere without Ludwig, and Lukas doesn't go anywhere without Magnus. That's the deal. Agree?"</p>
  <p>They nodded, and Berwald felt no better for it.</p>
  <p>Each side for itself. Wasn't supposed to be that way. They had promised each other they would work together. They were supposed to be brothers, and yet now they had split themselves.</p>
  <p>It was Lukas who looked at Berwald then, and asked, "Where are you going, Berwald?"</p>
  <p>Where could he go? Caught in between them, as he was.</p>
  <p>Torn between Ludwig, who he loved, and fighting against the Germans as his conscience demanded.</p>
  <p>It took him a long time to say, drearily, "I don't know."</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked at him, and seemed just as disheartened.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>The first time they went out was kind of tense.</p>
  <p>Stiff and awkward.</p>
  <p>Had been since the conversation, and when Berwald and Ludwig had laid down to sleep the previous night, they had only stared at the ceiling, both unsure of what there really was to say. Berwald knew that Ludwig wasn't fond of the side he had taken, although it was unstated, and the feeling was mutual. Ludwig still took his hand, though, and held it throughout the night. Fingers intertwined. Ludwig's leg wound up on top of Berwald's. They didn't stop caring for each other just because the world told them they should have gone separate ways. It wasn't ever that easy to break apart something like that.</p>
  <p>All of them.</p>
  <p>In the morning, it became clear that none of them were comfortable, but they were there all the same.</p>
  <p>None of them had had a good nights sleep.</p>
  <p>They didn't really look much at each other, not when they were dressing and not when they walked outside, not when they slung their rifles over their backs. Not when it was time to split up, for the first time.</p>
  <p>Felt so <em>wrong</em>.</p>
  <p>Standing there before each other on different sides, and yet knowing they would come back together at the end of the day and greet each other as they always had. Seeing Timo and Ludwig on the east, and Magnus and Lukas on the west.</p>
  <p>Berwald stood in the middle, feeling defeated. Demoralized.</p>
  <p>He didn't even look up from the ground until Lukas asked him, again, "Where are you going today, Berwald?"</p>
  <p>This time, he couldn't say, 'I don't know.' Couldn't sit there and mope. Couldn't think about it too much. He had to go somewhere, and with someone. And the other side would feel a little betrayed for it.</p>
  <p>His head hurt and so did his chest, and it took him a long time to finally sigh through his nose and incline his head towards Lukas in acknowledgement. Ludwig looked a little hurt, but didn't protest. Didn't argue. Didn't say a word.</p>
  <p>It hurt Berwald more than he could say to set off in that forest, knowin' that Ludwig was heading the opposite direction. That he couldn't keep Ludwig safe, assuming that he would even be able to, the way Ludwig was.</p>
  <p>That Ludwig wasn't beside of him.</p>
  <p>That they headed off in that moment to fight for different causes.</p>
  <p>Getting home that night, though, walking through the door and seeing Ludwig already there, safe and sound, there weren't any words he had for that feeling. When Ludwig looked up at him and smiled, even though Berwald had gone the other way. When Ludwig came in to sleep later, and curled up against him as if they hadn't been apart at all.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig kissed his forehead in the morning without a word.</p>
  <p>Couldn't stand it.</p>
  <p>So the next time, when they stood there and it was decision time, Berwald inclined his head in Ludwig's direction. The smile that Ludwig quickly smothered was worth Magnus' grimace.</p>
  <p>He didn't want to kill anymore Reds, but he didn't want any Reds killlin' Ludwig, either, so it seemed to him that since they were already being insane he may as well go back and forth between them. One day, he went with Lukas and Magnus. The next, he went with Ludwig and Timo. Easier that way, and he could keep all of them happy. Except for himself, but that hadn't ever really been a luxury of his, not as the leader.</p>
  <p>Sure was glad, though, on those days when he could keep fearless Ludwig in his sights. To keep an eye on him, to be able to have his back. Worried about him so much that it made him sick sometimes.</p>
  <p>And beyond that, beyond the fact that Ludwig wasn't on the side that Berwald wanted him to be, Berwald was content all the same to walk beside of him, and more so when they wound up by themselves in the quiet forest, because he loved Ludwig more than any cause. Anything.</p>
  <p>Ludwig coulda said that he wanted to go back to fuckin' Germany and get back into the army, and Berwald probably would have said, 'Where do I sign up?'</p>
  <p>Just to <em>stay</em> with him. Killing Reds was worth it, as long as Ludwig stayed.</p>
  <p>Going with Ludwig and Timo was all work, all seriousness, but it still felt damn good to crouch there in the dirt, in the wilderness and in piles of twigs and leaves, next to Ludwig, who always looked over at him long enough to shoot him a smile. Even behind the mask, Berwald knew he was smiling, in the crinkling of his eyes. No matter the circumstance, when Ludwig was there, Berwald was happy.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, just covering Timo and his guys was all they ever did, and they were content with that.</p>
  <p>Hiding back behind a tree one sunny afternoon, gloved hands pressing into the ground to keep his balance, Berwald stayed silent and still, and merely watched through the scope as Timo and his men conversed in the trees below. Planning their next moves and trading things with other Finnish groups. Sometimes, Berwald could hear Timo laughing.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, on his stomach and eagle eyes scanning the horizon to keep them covered, seemed perfectly comfortable, despite the heat and humidity.</p>
  <p>And Berwald was perfectly comfortable just watching him, whenever he could pull away from his own scope enough to spare a glance.</p>
  <p>Covered head to toe in the dark coats that they had become dependent on in summer, his pale hair covered and face hidden by the dark mask, Ludwig was really just an extension of the landscape, invisible and cloaked in a veil of earthy colors. Only the gleam of the scope catching the sun every so often would have let anyone know they were there at all.</p>
  <p>Even so bland, so dulled and camouflaged, Ludwig was somehow still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Every time Ludwig looked over at him, the flush of heat on his neck was a bit uncomfortable, and it was impossible to stay morose, no matter what was going on in his head.</p>
  <p>Hours passed.</p>
  <p>An uneventful day, certainly. Timo and his men had been here since dawn, and not one sight of a Red. Berwald would never complain about that.</p>
  <p>Nothing moved ahead. Silence. Only the occasional drifting of leaves and twigs that fell from the swaying pine branches above.</p>
  <p>This task would have been far too boring and time-consuming for Magnus and Timo, Lukas too, but Ludwig seemed to have infinite patience, and no matter how many hours passed, he sat still, keeping the rifle swaying back and forth in languid motions. Timo could have hung out with his men there for days on end, and Ludwig wouldn't have moved a muscle.</p>
  <p>Even Berwald shifted every hour or so to keep from cramping. Ludwig seemed immune.</p>
  <p>Ludwig glanced up at him, a while later, and smiled.</p>
  <p>"Getting tired?"</p>
  <p>A faint hint of a whisper, drifting above the wind.</p>
  <p>Berwald shook his head.</p>
  <p>But Ludwig didn't seem to believe him, and added, "You can lay down, you know."</p>
  <p>Well. Never refuse an offer, and splaying down beside of Ludwig was more comfortable than he liked to admit. Not the place for, er, cuddling, as it might have been, but Berwald found it increasingly difficult to separate himself from Ludwig, for any reason at all.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was going to be the death of him.</p>
  <p>So they just pressed themselves together, whispering every now and again, and covered Timo until dusk. Berwald left Timo and Ludwig to head back first, to make sure the way to the house was clear, and as he stood up, he made sure to press his palm into Ludwig's shoulder, in a silent farewell.</p>
  <p>The sun had vanished.</p>
  <p>When he crept into the safe zone, their meeting point, he saw that Lukas and Magnus were already there, chatting. Magnus saw him first, looked him up and down, and sent him a crinkled grimace.</p>
  <p>"Well. How many heroes you kill today?"</p>
  <p>What a lovely greeting after a long day. Magnus was a charmer, alright. Wouldn't ever understand what Timo saw in that man.</p>
  <p>Berwald slung his rifle heavily over his shoulder, and replied, calmly, "Timo's gonna ask you the same thing."</p>
  <p>Magnus' sneer fell quickly enough, as he turned his gaze away to the trees.</p>
  <p>Heroes were relative. Views changed from person to person. Magnus' heroes wore stars on their caps. Timo's heroes wore eagles. That was all. And when Timo and Ludwig joined them, Magnus just shifted his weight a little, looking abashed, and averted his gaze from Timo to the ground.</p>
  <p>It was easier to understand one side a little more when you compared them to your own. Sometimes, things just didn't work out the way they were supposed to.</p>
  <p>Life went on.</p>
  <p>A month passed, in this back and forth manner, before something exciting finally happened.</p>
  <p>Berwald had gone with Lukas and Magnus, deep into a stretch of forest they had never been in before, and they had split up, just enough to be out of sight but not sound. Ludwig and Timo were somewhere in here, too, not too far away but looking for different things.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't let any of them stray too far nowadays. He worried all the time.</p>
  <p>Felt different that day. In that place. Berwald, uncomfortable in this new surrounding and always fretting about Ludwig, had been abnormally tense all day and ready to head back, though nothing had yet happened. This stretch was quiet. He didn't like it. Didn't like the unfamiliar trails. Didn't like the patches of barbed wire they found sometimes. Didn't like the spent shells that crunched under their boots quite frequently. Didn't like the bullet holes in the tree bark. Didn't like the <em>silence</em>.</p>
  <p>So <em>quiet</em> all the time, as if even the wildlife had abandoned this forest in fear.</p>
  <p>The noon sun blazed overhead. Berwald was on his toes, jittery and nervous.</p>
  <p>Suddenly, a break in the silence. A cry over the still forest.</p>
  <p>"Hey!"</p>
  <p>He straightened up, as Magnus' loud voice echoed through the trees. A horrible, earth-stopping moment of terror. Hearing one of them scream, in this unnerving place. Berwald had already started running before he even knew where the hell he was going, rifle clenched and boots slinging out mud and leaves.</p>
  <p>Magnus called again.</p>
  <p>"Hey, come here! Look what I found!"</p>
  <p>...found?</p>
  <p>When he skidded through the trees, tracking down Magnus' voice and panicking, so many things were running through his head that he was starting to get dizzy. Everything that could have gone wrong. If someone was hurt.</p>
  <p>"Over here!"</p>
  <p>A swift turn of direction, a pinpoint of Magnus' voice, and then, suddenly, Berwald saw him.</p>
  <p>And <em>it.</em></p>
  <p>It.</p>
  <p>He stumbled to a halt, brow low and eyes wide, and was so startled that all he could do was reach up and yank his mask down, as if it were somehow obstructing his view. What he felt, squirming in his chest, was close to outright terror.</p>
  <p>Still smoking, somewhat buried in the muddy bank of the river where Magnus stood, gleaming in the bright sun and looking quite ominous against the quiet forest and pristine trees, was some kind of tank. No, not a tank. Different.</p>
  <p>Magnus poked his head over from the other side, resting his hands on the machine and beaming cheekily from over the steel. "Look what I found! A goddamn Panzerjäger!"</p>
  <p>Magnus seemed content and proud, but Berwald shuddered at the sight. They hadn't ever encountered heavy artillery like this. Not once. Not in all these years. They hadn't ever run into such <em>danger</em>. Something like that. He swore to himself, right then and there, that they would never come in this forest again, not ever. Not here. He wouldn't allow any of them to come back in this direction.</p>
  <p>Oh, where was Ludwig right now? Was he safe? The battles that were obviously taking place here were for armies and real soldiers; out of their league. Even Ludwig's.</p>
  <p>Oh. Ludwig <em>had</em> to be safe.</p>
  <p>Fuckin' <em>tanks</em>.</p>
  <p>"Well?"</p>
  <p>Magnus was staring at him.</p>
  <p>"What do you think?"</p>
  <p>Still...</p>
  <p>A machine like that was always valuable, once danger was gone, and Magnus knew it. He leered at Berwald, waiting for some kind of praise. Berwald gave the forest a quick scope, heart hammering, but when everything came back clear, he finally raised his brow, and, had it been anyone else, he would have said, 'Good job!'</p>
  <p>But it was Magnus, so he said, "Hm."</p>
  <p>Lukas finally joined them a few minutes later and walked around the machine, eyeballing it a bit eagerly as he asked, silkily, "Does it work?"</p>
  <p>Magnus shrugged a shoulder. "Dunno. Engine's smokin'. Probably not. That's why it's here, I guess, but I bet we can fix it, can't we?"</p>
  <p>They sat still, pondering, and then Magnus reached up, cupping his gloved hands around his mouth and bellowing, as loud as he could, "<em>Ludwig</em>! Hey, Ludwig!"</p>
  <p>Birds scattered.</p>
  <p>Berwald reached out like lightning, grabbed Magnus by the collar, and shook him. Not too hard, but enough to get Magnus' full attention.</p>
  <p>"Are you <em>stupid</em>?"</p>
  <p>Aside from the obvious fact that they were supposed to be <em>silent</em>, the fuckin' moron, there was another glaring issue that Magnus seemed to have overlooked. Berwald was quick to let him know, and shook him again.</p>
  <p>Magnus gawked at him, a breath away from punching Berwald in the face, but when Berwald hissed, lowly, "Did ya even <em>think</em> to check and see if there were any dead soldiers in it before you start callin' him over like a dog?" he fell still.</p>
  <p>Magnus' fury faded into something that Berwald could have sworn was mortification. Shame, maybe.</p>
  <p>He couldn't keep Ludwig from the cruelty of the world, not all the time, but he could do it this once. And Magnus did his best to oblige. Without a word, Magnus broke free of his grip and hopped up into the hatch of the disabled Panzerjäger, poking his head in with wide eyes. Magnus was dumb sometimes, sure was, but Berwald was certain that he wouldn't ever have put Ludwig in a position like that, not intentionally.</p>
  <p>A short search, a great sigh, and an abashed Magnus hopped back down, muttering gruffly, "It's clear."</p>
  <p>Berwald grimaced and shook his head irritably, but didn't berate him more. He'd learned his lesson, hopefully.</p>
  <p>It wasn't long before Ludwig and Timo materialized as if from thin air, appearing out of the trees and making no sounds in their wake, their guns up and eyes frightened. Ludwig looked beyond alarmed, worried, perhaps, that something had gone wrong. To hear his name called like that, when he and Magnus weren't on the same side anymore.</p>
  <p>His eyes fell on Berwald immediately. Berwald shrugged a shoulder, trying to say, 'It's alright.'</p>
  <p>A short look around, and Timo and Ludwig lowered their shoulders a bit when they realized there was no immediate danger. They pulled down their masks, as Berwald had.</p>
  <p>Ludwig saw the smoke, then, and turned his head. A soft gasp, and a flash of movement, as Ludwig leapt like a rabbit. As soon as he saw the Iron Cross on the side of the vehicle, as soon as he recognized a German machine, Ludwig was on it in a second, placing a gloved hand on the metal and looking so damn <em>homesick </em>suddenly. A darkening of his eyes. A crinkle in his brow. A tensing of his jaw. Longing. His face was focused and intense, completely and rather pitifully enamored with that machine as he walked around it, hand never lifting from the steel.</p>
  <p>A little twinge of hurt, seein' Ludwig like that. Feeling so far away from home. Seeing something familiar after all this time and wanting to be close to it.</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned to look at Magnus and Lukas then, suddenly, a tension in his face that was obvious, and Berwald knew that Ludwig thought they had killed the crew. Odd, in a way, to see how differently two men could react to the sight of an Iron Cross.</p>
  <p>Lukas was the one who said, "It was empty when we got here."</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned his eyes to Berwald, as if seeking confirmation, and Berwald nodded. Ludwig took their word for it, and returned his attention to the machine before him, running his hand over every inch of it and admiring it as if he were looking back at Germany itself.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>Magnus spoke up, then, and asked, "What are we gonna do with it? <em>We</em> can't use it."</p>
  <p>Timo said, quickly, "I know who can. But it's busted. Can't get anything for it if it doesn't work."</p>
  <p>Each of them looked at Ludwig, who didn't really seem to be listening.</p>
  <p>Lukas was the one to finally state what Berwald had been thinking, in a low voice. "If it's fixable, then they would have done it. They wouldn't have left it here unless something was chasing them out."</p>
  <p>A long, uncomfortable silence.</p>
  <p>Timo and Berwald pulled their masks back up, then, and surely felt equally anxious. If there were Reds in here that had chased off the German crew, then they wouldn't look at this group and know right off if they were friend or foe. They'd shoot 'em, without asking any questions, just in case.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was oblivious to their worry. Time seemed pressing, so Berwald tried to get his attention with a gentle call of his name. When Ludwig looked back, Berwald was glad to see that his eyes were clear and bright. The homesickness had gone.</p>
  <p>Bolstered, Berwald asked, somewhat impatiently, "So. Can ya fix it?"</p>
  <p>Magnus was waiting, eagerly.</p>
  <p>Ludwig placed a hand on his hip, and then cast Berwald a narrow-eyed look of disbelief, and scoffed to himself, lowly and somewhat sarcastically, "Can I <em>fix </em>it?"</p>
  <p>A laugh.</p>
  <p>Ludwig cracked his knuckles, bristling in sudden excitement.</p>
  <p>"No problem!"</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>No problem.</p>
  <p>Sure. Bullshit.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was young, but he could bullshit with the best of them.</p>
  <p>Three hours, and he and Magnus were still underneath the damn tank-buster, still struggling.</p>
  <p>Oh, well. Maybe Berwald wasn't one to talk. He could barely figure out one end of a wrench from the other, let alone actually try to give them a hand. Timo and Lukas seemed hardly bothered, crouched on either side of the machine and keeping focused eyes on the forest, and Berwald just found himself alone off to the side, rifle in hand and staring rather enthusiastically at Ludwig's long legs, poking out from under the machine.</p>
  <p>...well, maybe it wasn't such a hassle, waiting.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig had shed their coats to get under the vehicle, head to head, and trusted the others to make sure no one snuck up on them while they worked.</p>
  <p>The smell of oil hung in the air.</p>
  <p>The temperature kept on rising as the sun crept ever higher, and Berwald had caved in long before and taken off his mask and hood as the sweat had starting dripping into his eyes. Timo had rolled up his sleeves, and even Lukas wiped his forehead every so often. The humidity must have made it miserable under the machine.</p>
  <p>Some progress seemed to be made, though, when a spark shot out from the cables beneath, and from under the great steel tank-buster Berwald heard Ludwig shriek, in a high voice, "Goddamn piece of <em>shit</em>!"</p>
  <p>Or not.</p>
  <p>Magnus' barking laughter followed, and Berwald only rolled his eyes as Magnus and Ludwig snitted at each other, their heads probably bumping together in the center.</p>
  <p>"You connected the wrong one!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig griped something low and unintelligible, and then said, irritably, "Toss me that bolt."</p>
  <p>"Can't you see I'm holding the goddamn cables? Get it yourself!"</p>
  <p>"You're a real dick, ya know?"</p>
  <p>"I know!"</p>
  <p>From the other side, Timo heaved a sigh of exasperation. Berwald tugged his collar a bit. Eh. Alright, so maybe Ludwig could be as much of a 'charmer' as Magnus was. Sometimes.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's legs kicked a bit, no doubt in frustration.</p>
  <p>"You got two hands, don't'cha?"</p>
  <p>"Occupied!"</p>
  <p>"You—ah, fuck, I got it. Here, look. Hold that."</p>
  <p>A short silence, and then another spark.</p>
  <p>Magnus was the one to cry out that time, likely having been shocked. Maybe intentionally, by an aggravated Ludwig. Berwald found himself a bit satisfied by that.</p>
  <p>"Hold still!"</p>
  <p>"Well then stop shockin' me you son of a bi—"</p>
  <p>"Hold <em>still</em>!"</p>
  <p>A clamor beneath, Ludwig's muttering, and then Magnus shrieked again.</p>
  <p>"<em>SHIT</em>!"</p>
  <p>At the same moment that Magnus cried out, there was a great clatter, a buzz, and the engine roared to life.</p>
  <p>With a rough grunt of satisfaction, Ludwig's hands gripped the front of the vehicle and he pushed himself out from beneath quite quickly, Magnus crawling out right after him.</p>
  <p>The sound of it suddenly seemed far too loud in this unfriendly place. Berwald was ready to go, anxious as he was.</p>
  <p>Ludwig and Magnus stood there side by side for a moment, observing their work, covered head to toe in motor oil, clothes disheveled and hair matted, and Magnus' hand was dripping blood down his sleeve. Their eyes seemed far brighter when they were the only things that weren't covered in soot, and Berwald couldn't help but a stare a bit.</p>
  <p>Huh.</p>
  <p>Well, now he knew what Ludwig woulda liked like if he weren't a blond. Always nice to see pristine Ludwig when he was messy.</p>
  <p>The armored car sat there and the engine purred as if nothing had ever been wrong with it, and there was no doubt that they were very proud of themselves.</p>
  <p>Placing his blackened hands on his hips, his now-black hair sticking up to high heaven, Ludwig looked over his shoulder and caught Berwald's eye, and said, somewhat haughtily, "And that's how you fix a Panzerjäger!"</p>
  <p>Magnus reached out with his bloody hand and clapped Ludwig firmly on the back, as Timo said from behind, "Good job, guys! You just won us a hell of a lot of good stuff. Let's get rolling."</p>
  <p>They grabbed up their coats, and were quick to set out. Magnus leapt onto the vehicle quite eagerly, followed by a bouncing Timo. Lukas stared up at them, and then stepped up, speaking quietly to himself under his breath.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just stood there.</p>
  <p>And Berwald realized that Ludwig was still staring at him. Didn't take too long to find out why; as soon as the others were out of sight, occupied with figuring out the machine, Ludwig reached out, snatched Berwald by the back of the neck, yanked him in, and kissed him rather ferociously.</p>
  <p>No time to think.</p>
  <p>Before he could even react or get his hands moving, Ludwig had let him go and was already walking to the tank-buster. He pulled himself up, leaving Berwald to stand there like an idiot below, gawking. It took him a second to come back down to earth, and it was only when Timo cried, "Berwald, you comin' or not?" that he got his feet working and trotted over.</p>
  <p>If the others noticed the oil on the back of his neck when he climbed up, then they didn't say anything. He was grateful for that. At least until he was the one that had to fuckin' walk, because they couldn't all fit inside the machine, and then his gratitude went flyin' out the window.</p>
  <p>When the tank-buster started creeping along, Berwald just sighed and held his rifle up against his chest, and trudged along with it. Figured.</p>
  <p>Ludwig popped open the top a while later, crossed his arms and leaned out from the hatch, leered down at Berwald a bit, and asked, over the wind, "Want some company?"</p>
  <p>Berwald looked up at him, and said, a little snippily, "I think ya should get out anyway. Slow as the damn thing's goin', looks like yer weighin' it down."</p>
  <p>Ludwig clicked his tongue, grumbled, "Ow!" and then very swiftly and agilely leapt down.</p>
  <p>A prim lift of his chin and a quick glance later, Ludwig had somehow forced Berwald's pace ever slower so that they were behind the machine. Shoulda been watching for soldiers, yeah, but Berwald found his focus very much broken. Every few paces they walked, Ludwig brushed up against him, and snatched his hand for a second before letting it go.</p>
  <p>Berwald was glad that the dark coat made the oil Ludwig was smearing all over him less obvious.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, Ludwig reached up, ran a black hand through his black hair, and then reached out to tussle Berwald's. Intentionally covering him in soot, just to irritate him. Just stupid, affectionate actions of a young man. Berwald loved every second of it, oil or no. The slow pace didn't bother Berwald anymore, and he was content the entire four hours it took for them to get out of the forest and back into visible territory, just because Ludwig was paying him attention.</p>
  <p>He looked over his shoulder sometimes, because he was fascinated by the tracks they left in the soft earth. His had always been solitary. Seeing a set of footprints next to his own was inexplicably breathtaking. Simple things like that. It was he that reached out, right at the cusp of the forest, and grabbed Ludwig's hand for once, and the smile that Ludwig sent him was just another one of those enchanting things about being <em>with</em> someone. Together.</p>
  <p>He didn't want to fight anymore.</p>
  <p>When the trees were behind them and smoke rose in the distance beyond the towns, Timo led the way, over towards the Finnish rebels that controlled the land in the east.</p>
  <p>Didn't take too long to get there.</p>
  <p>They had set up a little market of sorts, the Finns, long tables full of guns and ammunition, cars and machine-guns up for bartering. An interesting place, but one Berwald couldn't say he was too comfortable in. Still, though, that was the first time that all of them had gone together to do something since their great divide, and it felt more than a little wonderful to have them all standing there like before, in front of Finnish fighters who looked over the tank-buster while talking to Timo.</p>
  <p>Almost like old times.</p>
  <p>But not quite. Felt a bit wrong, knowing that whatever these men gave them would be later turned on them by Magnus and Lukas. Magnus must have been thinking the same, because he kept scratching his dirty hair and shuffling his feet.</p>
  <p>Well, the world was shitty, wasn't it, and all anyone could ever do was just go along with it.</p>
  <p>So when the men stood up straight, satisfied that the machine was in working order, and went off to talk amongst themselves, they just waited and avoided too much eye contact. With the exception of Ludwig and Timo, who saw these men as allies. At least until their offer was made. Then Ludwig and Timo didn't seem so content. Or friendly.</p>
  <p>The Finns made their offer, set the guns and bullets on the table, all five of them, and Berwald had nearly opened his mouth to say, 'There's no <em>way</em> that this is all you're givin' us for a fuckin' <em>Panzerjäger</em>!'</p>
  <p>Before he could start a riot, however, someone else beat him to it.</p>
  <p>Coming forward with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow, Ludwig stomped his foot, put his palms on the table, and cried, "<em>Hey! </em>You tryin' to rip us off or what? Come on, come on, what else ya got?"</p>
  <p>The Finns turned to each other, conversed a little, and put a few more things down. But only a few. Ludwig, hardly satisfied, kept sweeping his hand forward over the table in the international gesture for 'more'.</p>
  <p>"What else? Come on. That's not enough."</p>
  <p>One of them started shaking his head, reluctant to give them any more, and Berwald reached up to scratch at the back of his neck as the man and Ludwig started screaming at each other, and he let his mind wander off a bit when staring at them became a little too awkward. His fingernails came back black with motor-oil.</p>
  <p>Every now and again Ludwig slammed his palms on the table in anger.</p>
  <p>Oh, man.</p>
  <p>He'd heard Ludwig scream before, when he had been tied up to the bed so long ago, and it was just as frightening as he remembered. It was a little interesting, though, to see Ludwig go from calm to riot in a few seconds. To hear his low, rumbling voice rise up into a shriek. To hear him scream.</p>
  <p>...well, maybe the next time he tied Ludwig to the bed—</p>
  <p>Nope.</p>
  <p>There he went, getting ahead of himself again.</p>
  <p>He shook his head, shoved aside any, ah, out of place thoughts, and put his attention back where it should be. Quickly, he saw that Magnus had come up to Ludwig's side and had joined in the ruckus, always eager to jump into a fight. They leaned forward beside of each other, hands on the table and speaking loudly, and tried to force more out of the men.</p>
  <p>Either one of them could be intimidating on their own, but putting them together, with their booming voices and broad shoulders and sharp eyes and still covered in grease and oil as they were, was kinda scary.</p>
  <p>Perhaps even to those hardened Finns.</p>
  <p>Eventually, more was put upon the table. Maybe it was because Ludwig was as German as the machine they were bartering for, maybe it was because the Finns had a soft spot for Germans, or maybe they just liked the fact that Ludwig had the gall to bitch at them, but whatever it was, they gave in, and upped the ante.</p>
  <p>Finally, a deal was reached.</p>
  <p>"That's more like it!" Ludwig said, and with that, he swung his fist around, clapped hands with the Finn, and they shook on it.</p>
  <p>As an afterthought, Ludwig took a glance at the Soviet sniper rifles lined up behind the men, and lifted his head.</p>
  <p>"How much for one of those?"</p>
  <p>Seeing his gaze, the Finn was quick to start speaking, and although only Timo understood him, Ludwig still put his glove in his mouth and reached into his wallet. Yet again, the Finn and the German argued back and forth, and, yet again, it was Ludwig who came out victorious, and took the rifle for less than what the Finn wanted. Triumphant and quite pleased with himself, Ludwig put his wallet up, smoothed his greasy hair, and came back to the group.</p>
  <p>"What the hell you want that thing for?" Magnus asked, and Ludwig was quick to toss it to him.</p>
  <p>"For you, 'cause you can't shoot for shit."</p>
  <p>Magnus looked down at the rifle in his hand, and furrowed his brow. "You tryin' to get me killed or something? I can't use this!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig just looked over at him, and said, quite sternly, "You're gonna learn. We'll practice tomorrow."</p>
  <p>"Shoulda saved your money."</p>
  <p>"Actually," Ludwig said, primly, "It was your money. Your gun, your money."</p>
  <p>Timo laughed, whether it was true or not.</p>
  <p>They walked on, in relative silence, carting their bags of goods.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked over at Magnus a bit later, lips pursed in what might have been apprehension, and then he said, oddly, "It's just... My guys are good shots, you know? I kinda—I worry about ya, sometimes. When I'm not there."</p>
  <p>Normally, hearing Ludwig say, 'my guys' woulda made Lukas and Magnus glare a bit. This time, though, Lukas looked straight ahead and didn't utter a word, and Magnus only managed a weak, amicable scoff before he dropped his head and stared at the rifle over his chest.</p>
  <p>My guys.</p>
  <p>Still his guys, and yet Ludwig put their safety first, because he loved them. Timo looked a little strange, and Berwald knew it was because Timo was torn between Magnus' safety and the German soldiers he admired so.</p>
  <p>Berwald was glad, then, that he didn't know what it felt like to have a country he loved under siege, and men he loved who opposed him. Neutral was a curse sometimes. But not always.</p>
  <p>After a while, Timo seemed to find thinking too much to his disliking, and tried to break the silence.</p>
  <p>"So, Ludwig!" he said, as they walked along with weary feet, "You sure can scream when you feel like it. Think you scared 'em more than an army ever could."</p>
  <p>Berwald felt like clearing his throat for some reason.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just smiled a little, and shrugged a shoulder.</p>
  <p>"My brother had a big mouth. I had to scream just to get him to listen to me. Guess after a while I just got used to it. He was always fightin' with me, so I had to be louder."</p>
  <p>Berwald walked with them, brow furrowed, and turned his eyes to the ground.</p>
  <p>It took him a while there to realize that Ludwig had started speaking about his brother in the past tense. As if, when everything was said and done, he intended to stay put. As if he really wanted to stay. Things like that, those little things, made it so hard for Berwald not to get his hopes up. He wanted Ludwig to stay, even if Germany ended the war tomorrow and became a peaceful paradise.</p>
  <p>He wanted Ludwig to stay with him.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Summer was steadily coming to an end.</p>
  <p>The fall felt damn good, yeah, and yet it was still sad, in a way, to see the season end.</p>
  <p>Ludwig in the sunlight.</p>
  <p>September crept up, Magnus never learned how to shoot the sniper rifle, and the leaves started to change color, just a bit. The weather was more temperate. Most days were pleasant.</p>
  <p>The most pleasant day of all came out of nowhere, really, when Berwald was laying alone in bed and trying to catch a little repose in the midst of this hectic world. Didn't get to rest too long, though. Only an hour or so had passed in solitude before he looked up and saw that Ludwig stood there in the doorframe, an odd look on his face. Berwald peered up at him, and inclined his head in acknowledgement. No rest was ever good enough to ignore Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasted no time, and was quick to cross his arms and suddenly appear very serious.</p>
  <p>"Come with me."</p>
  <p>When everything was considered, Berwald had every right to be suspicious of sly Ludwig, but then Ludwig turned tail and walked off before Berwald could even ask, 'Why?', and Berwald was hardly embarrassed when he found himself tumbling out of bed and trotting after Ludwig like a puppy.</p>
  <p>Anything Ludwig wanted.</p>
  <p>Caught sight of him leaving the house, and Berwald looked over both shoulders to make sure he wasn't being followed. Who could ever say what these weirdos came up with, especially with the minds of Lukas and Ludwig.</p>
  <p>He reached the front door and pushed it tentatively open, to see Ludwig standing down below the porch on the grass. Berwald stopped there to grab his boots, until Ludwig glanced back, waved his hand in the air, and said, "You don't need shoes! Come on! Come here."</p>
  <p>Berwald did, and when Ludwig finally stopped walking, a little ways down the hill, he pointed out to the lake below. Berwald only had a second to think about the fuckin' mines Lukas had planted—</p>
  <p>"Look."</p>
  <p>It took a moment for Berwald to think, especially when Ludwig suddenly plopped down onto his back in the grass, arms spread out at his sides and looking up at the sky like a kid.</p>
  <p>A twinge of anxiety, as he tried to remember Lukas' map. All those little dots. A burst of noise and color startled him, and when he turned his eyes to the lake, Berwald saw little boats, drifting here and there, lit up with candles and lamps, and they were setting off fireworks.</p>
  <p>Glimmering and streaks of color in the heavens. Glints of gold and fluttering pinks and blues. Trails of smoke.</p>
  <p>Ludwig craned his neck back and gawked up at Berwald, saying, with more excitement than he really needed to have about something he couldn't join in, "They're having a party! Timo said someone got married. Pretty, isn't it?"</p>
  <p>Pretty?</p>
  <p>The remnants of flame shimmered down and vaporized near the water. A faint smell of smoke on the wind.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't think of anything to say, even as his mouth opened.</p>
  <p>A whistle, as another firework shot off. Ludwig, lit up in shades of pastel.</p>
  <p>Ludwig heaved a sigh, his chest falling, and seemed very much at peace, whispering, "They sound happy. It's kinda nice."</p>
  <p>Peace.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's fingers were brushing over the tips of the grass, back and forth.</p>
  <p>Just like that, as randomly as a bolt of lightning, Berwald felt it. Something stopped. He could only fall still then, and time seemed to fall still with him as an odd, warm burst in his chest caught him off guard. Burning. Breathlessness. A feeling that he quickly recognized as awe and wonder. The mines completely vanished from his mind then. Anyway, hardly a concern, perhaps; Ludwig had all of that memorized.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe, suddenly.</p>
  <p>Not because of the fireworks, nor the boats drifting amongst lights on the lake. Not the ripples of the waves, not the moonlight shimmering on the water, not the fireflies up in the trees. Not the happiness of other people, celebrating a joyous occasion in the middle of misery. Not the calm breeze, the clean air, or the perfect temperature.</p>
  <p>Not how pretty everything was outside in that instant. Not the feel of the grass beneath his feet or the sight of the forest swaying in the wind. Not the stars above, or the billowing, white clouds in the distance. Not the purple sky, or the tint of orange in the horizon. Not the great, white moon in the sky.</p>
  <p>He found himself in awe of Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Just that dumb look on Ludwig's face, that happiness that Ludwig somehow felt in that moment, in the middle of a terrible situation and a great war, that Ludwig was somehow still able to fire off that gun and then plop down on the grass, that Ludwig saw fireworks and was mesmerized by them even though he was an adult. That Ludwig could be screaming at someone one day in the brunt and grime of war and then the next day be fawning over mere lights.</p>
  <p>That Ludwig was still <em>Ludwig</em>. That Ludwig hadn't really changed at all, in the face of this war. That Ludwig could still be so...</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't think of the word for it. Not one that seemed to do Ludwig any justice.</p>
  <p>Beautiful, maybe.</p>
  <p>That Ludwig, the essence and spirit of him, could still be so <em>beautiful</em>, in every way, despite it all.</p>
  <p>Splayed out there on the grass, watching the sky and looking so content. Paler than ever in the moonlight. Happy, because other people were happy. Ludwig was a soldier. A sniper. A killer. Trained and deadly. Fearless. Brave.</p>
  <p>And somehow still a good person.</p>
  <p>Somehow still a thoughtful, <em>kind</em> human being.</p>
  <p>How?</p>
  <p>Berwald felt frozen in time, in a way, as if everything around him had stopped, just looking down at Ludwig, his pale hair blowing in the wind, fingers still feeling the grass and eyes lidded with nothing short of absolute relaxation.</p>
  <p><em>Awed</em>, perhaps beyond anything else, that Ludwig could have very much enjoyed this scenery by himself and had instead decided to share it with Berwald.</p>
  <p>His chest hurt, suddenly. A sharp inhale, as his throat threatened to close up.</p>
  <p>A strange sense of sadness that could only be brought on by the best kind of happiness, even though when he thought about it a lot it didn't make any sense at all, but that was how Ludwig made him feel. Lost and helpless. Enthralled and gloomy at the same time.</p>
  <p>Ludwig looked back at him, again, that stupid smile still on his face, and asked, "Aren't you gonna lay down?"</p>
  <p>Couldn't, for a while. Just couldn't seem to move. Barely able to breathe, and some stupid part of him wanted to cry, for whatever reason. Captivated as he was by this strange, crazy, beautiful man before him.</p>
  <p>Somehow, his clunky feet started moving, and he sat down on the grass, carefully, legs crossed and staring down at Ludwig with absolute and complete bewilderment.</p>
  <p>How had this man ever chosen him?</p>
  <p>"Lay down," Ludwig repeated, apparently not satisfied that Berwald had sat, and he didn't need to be told a third time.</p>
  <p>The feel of earth and grass beneath his back was one that was a long time coming. Actually, he hadn't laid in the grass since Ludwig had kicked him down onto it a year and half ago, and before that, he hadn't laid down in the grass since he was a little kid.</p>
  <p>When would he have ever stopped and actually thought about something like <em>that</em>, in wartime?</p>
  <p>Even then, when he was inert there on the ground, Berwald found his eyes glued to Ludwig. He couldn't have looked away, even if he someone had tried to force him. One of those mines could have gone off, and Berwald wouldn't have even been able to flinch. Felt remarkably as if Ludwig had somehow cast a spell on him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned to look at him, face calm and collected, seemingly oblivious to the chaos he was causing within Berwald. Didn't speak. Just looked at him.</p>
  <p>"Where are the others?" Berwald asked, suddenly, although he was more interested in knowing where they were for his own benefit rather than theirs.</p>
  <p>He'd hate to be interrupted in the middle of something so intimate. Something that meant suddenly so much to him. Even if it was only a short moment in time. Just a meaningless passage of space that became a memory with every passing second.</p>
  <p>Meant everything, then.</p>
  <p>But Ludwig just pointed a lazy finger down at the lake, and said, simply, "Down there."</p>
  <p>They had gone down and joined the party, huh? Not surprising, if Timo had goaded them on, but...</p>
  <p>"Why di'n't <em>you</em> go?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't answer that, and just smiled as he eyeballed another firework up above, a bit coyly.</p>
  <p>Oh.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't really need to say it; somehow, Berwald had understood.</p>
  <p>'Because I wanted to be with you.'</p>
  <p>Berwald's throat did close up a bit then, and air was hard to come by again. He found himself swallowing frequently. He blinked anytime he thought he felt his eyes watering.</p>
  <p>Cool wind rustled the tall grass near the forest, and the lake rippled. The smell of water.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had turned his head off to the forest, apparently dividing his attention between fireworks and fireflies, charmingly oblivious to the effect he had.</p>
  <p>At his sides, Berwald's hands were shaking, just a little.</p>
  <p>Every time one of those fireworks went off, Ludwig went as still as rock, giving it his complete attention, and it was one of the most entrancing things Berwald had ever seen, in its sheer simplicity. Took so little to make Ludwig happy.</p>
  <p>Tranquility.</p>
  <p>The party seemed to get louder down below, and Berwald had no doubt that it would pick up even more as the hour grew later and people started feeling all of the alcohol they were consuming.</p>
  <p>Any other time, maybe he would have tried to envision the others, down there. Tried to picture how Lukas looked at a party, maybe, getting tipsy and then trying to ask a girl to dance with him, with one of those leering smiles and that cool voice being a little charming. How Timo interacted with his own people in a special occasion, how he grabbed Magnus by the hand and tried to make him engage in odd Finnish rituals. How Magnus beamed, completely enamored with Timo, and tried very hard to make a fool of himself in front of the villagers, just so they'd have something to <em>laugh</em> about for once.</p>
  <p>Not this time.</p>
  <p>All he saw was Ludwig.</p>
  <p>And then suddenly he saw Ludwig's hands, because they were up next to his face. Startled, he flinched back automatically, tensing up in an instilled defense mechanism.</p>
  <p>Stopping short at his movement, Ludwig smiled over at him, twisted at the waist, brow high and expression light as he asked, lowly, "Hey! Can I just see something?"</p>
  <p>The sensation gripping him then was terror, because he didn't know what to expect, and because Ludwig was making his heart beat so fast that he thought he was going to pass out. Ludwig waited, patiently, those smooth hands still in the air, and finally, somehow, Berwald managed a short, curt nod.</p>
  <p>Exhilaration.</p>
  <p>Let Ludwig do as he pleased, anything he wanted at all, as long as he <em>stayed</em> here.</p>
  <p>At his consent, there was a passing of excitement on Ludwig's face before it gave way to an almost alarming intensity, and before Berwald could have second thoughts and back out of whatever oddity Ludwig was planning, warm hands were on either side of his face. A chill up his back. He held his breath without realizing it, and with a single, swift movement, Ludwig had suddenly plucked his glasses neatly from his face.</p>
  <p>The stars melded into the sky and the grass and lake blurred together. Fireworks became great blobs of molten colors. Fireflies disappeared altogether.</p>
  <p>Squinting to the point of discomfort, he looked over and sent Ludwig (or, at the very least, Ludwig's blurry form) a look of utter helplessness. Being put in the dark like that was always alarming, but being blind <em>now</em>, when Ludwig was fuckin' bright and enthralling beside of him, seemed absolutely reprehensible.</p>
  <p>What was it with Ludwig and his damn glasses?</p>
  <p>"What're ya doin'?" Berwald finally whispered, in a voice that was hardly more than a croak, and he could hear Ludwig 'hm'ing to himself.</p>
  <p>"Oh," came the slow, intentional response, "Nothing. I just wanted to see what you look like without your glasses."</p>
  <p>Well, that was a lie if he ever heard one. Ludwig had blinded him so many times now he couldn't even keep count.</p>
  <p>Vulnerability. Reduced to sound and smell without his eyes. Touch.</p>
  <p>"I can't see," he finally said, not as sternly as he would have liked. How did his voice always drop its edge and harshness around Ludwig? Turning into a deep, harmless whisper.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had ruined him.</p>
  <p>His hammering heart was starting to make him dizzy and faint, or maybe that was just Ludwig, and more than anything else he suddenly just wanted to reach out and grab Ludwig and clench him as hard as he could. Anything to make these overwhelming sensations and feelings calm. He'd never been so confused and scared and elated in his entire life. Didn't even know he could be this struck down by emotion at all, not the way he'd always been. Not after so long in that rut. Years and years in a dull loop.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had come out of nowhere.</p>
  <p>Somewhere in the forest, owls were hooting.</p>
  <p>No distinguishable shapes around. No specific lines of color. Nothing. Just a blurry world and great balls of unfocused light.</p>
  <p>A rustle beside of him, and then suddenly he could see Ludwig's pale eyes as he propped himself up and leaned forward, pressing his chest up against Berwald's, and then his face too, and suddenly Ludwig was so close that he could feel warm breath upon his cheek and a nose in his hair.</p>
  <p>He could smell him.</p>
  <p>A deep, warm whisper next to his ear.</p>
  <p>"Can you see <em>me</em>?"</p>
  <p>Frozen still, he lost his voice.</p>
  <p>He could, this close. Ludwig was smiling, and the warmth he felt then was steadily overtaking the terror. Finally, he nodded, a bit dumbly.</p>
  <p>And Ludwig's face lit up like the stars he could no longer see. Beautiful.</p>
  <p>Oh, fuckin' <em>Christ</em>, Berwald suddenly wished somebody would come and <em>save</em> him from this man, because it seemed then as if Ludwig was trying to kill him somehow.</p>
  <p>Help.</p>
  <p>"Well then!" Ludwig said, deep voice low and rumbling, the vibrations through his chest creeping up Berwald's arm, "That's the important thing."</p>
  <p>With that, Ludwig rolled back over onto the grass, taking that heat with him.</p>
  <p>A long, pitiful silence, as Berwald was already prepared to do whatever the hell Ludwig wanted. Beg. Plead. Anything. He would have thrown himself into the lake now had Ludwig asked him to. The way he felt then.</p>
  <p>"Can I have 'em back now?" he somehow managed to ask, in more of a squeak, and was shot down.</p>
  <p>"What for?"</p>
  <p>"So I can see the lake."</p>
  <p>A silence.</p>
  <p>"No."</p>
  <p>"Why?"</p>
  <p>No answer.</p>
  <p>Berwald had nearly rolled over to begin a blind grope for his glasses when two strong hands placed themselves upon his chest, and he was shoved quite forcefully back into the grass. Ludwig quickly rolled back halfway on top of him to keep him from moving again.</p>
  <p>A sigh.</p>
  <p>The whisper then was so heavy and somehow intimate that Berwald's arms fell down compliantly in the grass, and his racing heart slowed with a sudden lurch of lethargy. As much as Ludwig could rile him up, seemed he could put him down, too.</p>
  <p>"Who needs to see?" Ludwig breathed in his ear. "I'll tell you everything that's happening."</p>
  <p>A long, intoxicating run of Ludwig's hands down his neck, and then a head rested on his chest, and Ludwig started speaking.</p>
  <p>It was certainly one of the most surreal moments of his life, and some part of him almost declared it the most romantic, assuming that he even really knew the meaning of the word, as he rested there on the grass, one arm loose at his side and the other out behind his head, Ludwig there above him, a hand running up and down the side of his face, and that entrancing voice, murmuring in a deep rumble about everything that was occurring on the lake.</p>
  <p>Berwald closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and, as Ludwig whispered away, he drifted off into another place.</p>
  <p>Just hearing Ludwig's voice.</p>
  <p>Using his imagination, and trying to put an image to everything Ludwig uttered.</p>
  <p>Feeling the rise and fall of Ludwig's chest against his own.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was right; who needed to see? Not then.</p>
  <p>The stars and fireflies came back, this time in his head, as Ludwig's words crept into his mind and painted things that were far more fascinating that anything real could be. The fireworks Ludwig described were brighter and bigger than any man could create. The boats more elegant and lit up with far more lights than was possible. The trees were taller than they could ever be in real life, bigger and greener and with far-reaching branches. The amount of stars in the sky had at the very least tripled, and were closer. The moon engulfed most of the sky, and was more blue than white. The fireflies turned the forest into miles of glowing lanterns.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was no poet, not by any means, not really that great with words at all, but he didn't have to be. Not at that moment.</p>
  <p>Berwald was hypnotized by every word that came out of his mouth.</p>
  <p>Everything Ludwig said painted out in his mind with brightness and clarity, and the glasses became meaningless.</p>
  <p>That hand stayed on his cheek the whole time.</p>
  <p>As time passed, Berwald realized that the amount of time between Ludwig's sentences kept increasing, and, quite frankly, so was his sense of longing. That feeling of restlessness and the squirming of want. He never wanted Ludwig to leave. Not just then, not just in that moment, but ever. He didn't want Ludwig to ever leave, to ever disappear. He wanted that man beside of him for the rest of his life.</p>
  <p>Eternity.</p>
  <p>It was then that Berwald gave a shallow, deep sigh, and pretended to fall asleep. He didn't know why. Maybe just to see what would happen. What Ludwig would do. Curiosity, perhaps.</p>
  <p>It didn't take long to find out.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, his rumbling voice babbling away like a brook, finally slowed the pace and pitch of his speech until it had died off completely, apparently aware that he had lost his company to sleep.</p>
  <p>Silence, broken only by Ludwig's breathing.</p>
  <p>But Ludwig was too clever and too damn hawk-eyed, and when he lifted up his head and pressed his chin into Berwald's collarbone, so close that Berwald could feel his nose brushing his jaw, everything suddenly froze still. Ludwig became immobile; even stopped breathing for a moment.</p>
  <p>And then he pulled back.</p>
  <p>Everything was cold again.</p>
  <p>Berwald realized quickly that Ludwig had caught on to him somehow, by either the pulse rushing in his neck or the too-loud hammering of his heart. Ludwig knew he was awake, and was likely smiling. Wasn't long before Berwald started smiling, too, still squinting his eyes shut and laying still. Acting, for once, like a kid himself.</p>
  <p>Nothing had ever felt that good, and for a while there, Berwald forgot the rifles in the house and the tanks barging through the land. Forgot the bombs planted underground. Forgot the sound of gunfire.</p>
  <p>Forgot the war.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had made him smile, had made him <em>happy</em>, by doing nothing at all.</p>
  <p>A soft snort, as Ludwig watched his dumb smile grow wider, and for a second he had almost laughed, feeling so content that his head was almost swaying along with the forest.</p>
  <p>"Have a good nap?" Ludwig asked, quite seriously, and Berwald was quick to nod.</p>
  <p>"Mm-hm."</p>
  <p>But just because he had been caught didn't mean that the feeling of serenity and exhilaration had to go, and when he felt Ludwig sitting up at his side, he snatched out his hand and quickly grasped the cool fabric of Ludwig's sleeve.</p>
  <p>"Where are ya goin'?" he asked, lowly, without bothering to open his eyes.</p>
  <p>"Nowhere," came the quick response, and when he tugged, Ludwig quickly fell back down into place, and raised up his arms, no doubt tucking them behind his head as he watched the sky.</p>
  <p>Berwald hoped, instead, that Ludwig was looking at him.</p>
  <p>A long minute passed, as crickets chirped away in the taller grass, and then Berwald felt himself heaving a great sigh. He could feel Ludwig's warmth so close beside of him, and it struck him like a rock on the head, as that stupid smile refused to leave his face.</p>
  <p>Love. Stronger than everything else around him. Hadn't ever felt anything like that, and the rush it brought out was like a dam bursting over a great river. Want.</p>
  <p>It was that moment in time that he had realized that he hopelessly and utterly in love with this man.</p>
  <p>He found it hard to keep still then, and started shifting. Ah. What the hell—Ludwig had done it. So could he. Opening his eyes, he gave up the feint of sleep and looked over, where a blurry Ludwig was staring up at the sky. If he didn't do it now, he wasn't going to. Best to not think about it, and be spontaneous. He couldn't have done it, though, if Ludwig hadn't made him feel so restless in that instant. If Ludwig hadn't turned him into a pile of gaiety just by being there.</p>
  <p>His time to act.</p>
  <p>He was sure he could do it. He could have done anything that night, with Ludwig at his side.</p>
  <p>So, he inhaled a deep breath through his nose, puffed his chest, reminded himself that Ludwig had kissed <em>him </em>first, and finally, <em>finally</em>, he made his move, his first, real, '<em>I</em> did this' move. The first time that he didn't wait for Ludwig to do something first.</p>
  <p>Before Ludwig could sit up again, Berwald rolled over, set his chest firmly atop Ludwig's, braced his arms for balance on either side of Ludwig's shoulders, and crushed their lips together. Didn't even take a millisecond for Ludwig to grab his hair and pull him down all the farther. Ludwig had obviously been waiting for this kind of aggression on his part. Probably for a while, now.</p>
  <p>...well, better late than never, right?</p>
  <p>Ludwig's fingers in his hair was quite the sensation, and somehow Ludwig had managed to pull him completely above him.</p>
  <p>He would have been proud of himself, perhaps, feeling Ludwig's knees on either side of him, if he could have removed his mind and attention from Ludwig for even a second. When he pulled his head back, it was Ludwig that suddenly looked a bit subdued. Still smiling, but only barely, and yet still in such a sincere manner that he may as well have been beaming. Looking calm. Happy.</p>
  <p>Gentle hands on his face.</p>
  <p>Berwald realized then that he wanted to say, abruptly, 'I love you <em>so</em> fuckin' much.'</p>
  <p>So much.</p>
  <p>When he opened his mouth, nothing came out.</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>For once, he wasn't disappointed in himself, because the way Ludwig looked at him made him feel as if he'd already said it a thousand times. Maybe it wasn't something that actually needed to be uttered aloud.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's hands wound up on the back of his neck, he plopped down rather heavily onto Ludwig, buried his face in Ludwig's chest, and sighed.</p>
  <p>Didn't seem possible that one person had the power to make another person so happy.</p>
  <p>Ludwig squeezed him quickly, pressing his face into Berwald's shoulder, and then somehow, someway, agile Ludwig had squirmed out from underneath him and was pulling him up to his feet, hands quick to go back around his neck and into a loop once he was upright.</p>
  <p>A short, unsteady wobble, before Ludwig put him back on balance.</p>
  <p>Couldn't see Ludwig, but Berwald could feel him and smell him, could hear him breathing, and he could only think to bury his face in Ludwig's hair, grab him a bit roughly, and lift him clear off in the ground in a burst of excitement, just because Ludwig made him <em>happy</em>.</p>
  <p>Happy. Couldn't seem to shake that word from his head.</p>
  <p>Hadn't ever been this happy.</p>
  <p>From the death-grip Ludwig had on his neck, maybe he wasn't as enthusiastic about his feet not touching the ground, and <em>he</em> seemed happy enough when Berwald set him back down. Would've kept him up there longer if he weren't so damn heavy.</p>
  <p>Sure hoped he was smiling, though.</p>
  <p>A short hesitation, as they pressed against each other, and then Ludwig seemed to have more ideas, and started moving.</p>
  <p>Blind as he was, he let Ludwig take control after that, and found himself being dragged up the hill. He knew where Ludwig was leading him; up to that bathhouse he was so fond of. A little twinge of anxiety, quickly stifled by the sheer enthrallment. It took Ludwig a while to get him up the hill, since he refused to remove his hands from Ludwig's waist and actually let him walk properly. Couldn't—it had taken him forever to gather the courage for this, and he damn well wasn't gonna let go.</p>
  <p>So they fumbled and staggered, and every time that Ludwig laughed as Berwald started tottering over, it felt as if some fireworks were going off in his head instead.</p>
  <p>How they made it up there without falling, he couldn't ever have said, and Ludwig was quick to kick open the door and shove Berwald through the threshold.</p>
  <p>And after Ludwig shut the door behind him?</p>
  <p>Well.</p>
  <p>Not much.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't quite as forward sober as he was drunk, that was for sure. He certainly didn't push Berwald down and straddle him as he had that night on the bed. Instead, he actually seemed rather determined to make Berwald <em>work</em> for it, and spent most of his time squirming out of every embrace and winding up on the opposite side of the room, no matter how hard Berwald tried to pin him down to one spot.</p>
  <p>...yeah, <em>that </em>figured.</p>
  <p>Goddammit.</p>
  <p>When he finally did manage to corner Ludwig long enough to grab him again, after a little agility work, something finally happened, but not exactly anything Berwald had been expecting right then. Instead of leaping on him (wishful thinking?), there was the feel of hard, cold wood beneath his back and a pain in his shoulder-blades, as Ludwig twisted him around and slammed him back against the wall.</p>
  <p>For a second there, taken off guard a bit and wide-eyed, Berwald had almost cried, defensively, '<em>Hey</em>!'</p>
  <p>Hadn't really expected Ludwig to turn so bold so suddenly, after being so elusive these past minutes.</p>
  <p>A somewhat intimidating stare, and then Ludwig's grip on his shirt loosened a little, and he smiled. Took Berwald a while to figure out that Ludwig was trying to rile him up, and he might not have figured it out at all if it hadn't been for that smile.</p>
  <p>That had worked, alright.</p>
  <p>Ludwig may as well have slapped him then; his hands were suddenly working on their own, and when he grabbed Ludwig's arms and flipped him around, when Ludwig was the one slammed back into the wall, everything felt a little too warm.</p>
  <p>He felt a little...</p>
  <p>Aggressive.</p>
  <p>Probably Ludwig's intention, come to think, by how quickly he was subdued and the rather heavy way he looked up at him. Hands clenched in the front of his shirt, and he wasn't really aware of anything else going on around them then, not when Ludwig's fingers started undoing the buttons on his shirt. Hands on his skin. Heat. A little dizziness.</p>
  <p>Nervousness, under the burn.</p>
  <p>If he thought about too much, worried about it too much, fretted over every little thing, then nothing was going to happen, nothing was going to go forward, and, with that thought, it was actually pretty easy to just cast it all aside and try to stay focused on Ludwig's hands.</p>
  <p>Probably the bravest he'd ever had to be in his fuckin' life. Not crawling through fields or forests, not dodging bullets and mines, not running one day from Reds and then the next day from Germans.</p>
  <p>Just trying to survive Ludwig was work enough.</p>
  <p>He realized that he still had a vice-grip on Ludwig's upper arms, probably bruising him to hell, and grabbed him by the hair instead to kiss him again.</p>
  <p>Oh, yeah. Ludwig was probably going to be the thing that killed him, in the end.</p>
  <p>Hands fumbled here and there, winding up in his belt as they had once before. Didn't fight it this time, and he let Ludwig do whatever he wanted, anything at all, and went along for the ride. Took him a bit to gather the courage to strip Ludwig of his own shirt. He wasn't as collected as Ludwig was, and didn't exactly unbutton the shirt so much as rip it.</p>
  <p>Even in the dim light, Berwald could see the exasperated look Ludwig sent him, as buttons flew all over the floor.</p>
  <p>A gruff mutter.</p>
  <p>"I liked this shirt."</p>
  <p>"Sorry," he replied, even though he wasn't, and distracted Ludwig easily enough by wrenching it off the rest of the way, and—</p>
  <p>Where the hell had his belt gone?</p>
  <p>Ludwig was fast, and more than a little sly.</p>
  <p>Couldn't help but a gasp a little when Ludwig's hands were suddenly thrust into his pants, and somehow they wound up on the floor, Ludwig not letting him get even an inch away. As if he had wanted to.</p>
  <p>There was a moment, though, entangled in each other and suddenly completely exposed, that they fell still and looked at each other with a bit of anxiety.</p>
  <p>Apprehension.</p>
  <p>Neither one of them really knew what the hell they were doin', apparently, because even bold, fearless Ludwig suddenly seemed a bit tentative.</p>
  <p>Hadn't been with anyone since he'd been seventeen, and barely even remembered it, drunk as he had been, and from that look on Ludwig's face, he probably hadn't been with anyone at all.</p>
  <p>A little scared.</p>
  <p>Still, though, Ludwig put a hand on Berwald's face and smiled, trying to be encouraging in the face of this terrifying new experience. An odd expression. It wasn't really a word that he ever attached to brawny, strong-willed Ludwig, but somehow Berwald had thought then that he looked rather...sweet.</p>
  <p>Sweet.</p>
  <p>That sounded strange, but there it was.</p>
  <p>And that was the look, after all of it, that did him in.</p>
  <p>Knowing that Ludwig trusted him like that, to put himself into a such a vulnerable position, knowing that Ludwig had fallen down underneath him because he had wanted to, knowing that Ludwig could have had anyone else, <em>anyone</em>, and had picked him.</p>
  <p>Bolstered and feeling drunk for some reason, he grabbed that hand on his face, kissed its palm, and promptly and maybe too roughly flipped Ludwig over. Couldn't see, but he could imagine Ludwig squinting his eyes as his face was pushed into the uncomfortable floor, maybe having second thoughts.</p>
  <p>Too late.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had set fire to something, and it couldn't be turned off again.</p>
  <p>Almost didn't recognize himself then. Hadn't ever thought he'd be able to do it at all, let alone do it in the perhaps hostile manner that he did. Spent all that time dancin' around Ludwig, trying to be gentle and aloof and careful, and suddenly he was yanking his hair and pinning him into the ground with little care for comfort. Spent all that time trying to keep Ludwig from harm, and suddenly he was the one twisting Ludwig's arm behind his back so hard that he could hear him hissing.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had tried to fight him to the death once.</p>
  <p>This time, Ludwig didn't even try to struggle against him, and just let him do whatever without so much as a word of protest. Ludwig wasn't scared of him, he knew better than that, and Ludwig coulda knocked him out at any time, so he must have liked it; otherwise, an elbow to the nose would have taken him out a long time ago.</p>
  <p>His heart hadn't ever beat as fast as it did then, when he felt himself grabbing Ludwig and pulling him up, when he spit in his hand, when he braced his knees, when he held Ludwig in place and took a deep breath and then pushed forward, and not that gently.</p>
  <p>A short, strangled gasp of what could only have been pain.</p>
  <p>Then stillness, as he buried his face into the back of Ludwig's neck, clenching Ludwig's waist for all he was worth, and he thought he heard Ludwig utter an unintelligible whisper. Once again, air was hard to find, and he sat still until restless Ludwig had settled and was pushing back against him in an effort to get him moving.</p>
  <p>Could have stayed that way forever, warm as Ludwig was.</p>
  <p>Took him a second to start moving, just from the sensation, just from the feel of Ludwig beneath him, and it took longer than Ludwig might have liked before he finally gasped in a great breath and pulled back.</p>
  <p>When he pushed forward again, as roughly as the first time, he was met with a cry.</p>
  <p>And, really, the only thing causing him any anxiety after that, if only barely, was Ludwig's loud damn voice.</p>
  <p>Couldn't move without Ludwig cryin' out.</p>
  <p>Not that he didn't like it; he loved the sound of it, always imagined he would, and if he had had his way, he probably would have tried to get Ludwig screamin' like he had wanted, but...</p>
  <p>Were the others on their way back?</p>
  <p>Probably not, but Berwald found himself clamping a hand over Ludwig's mouth all the same, because, Christ, the last thing he needed was for one of them to walk up to the house after a night of drinking and then come to investigate a strange noise.</p>
  <p>Woulda died, but not before punching the unlucky bastard right in the nose and then kickin' 'em down the hill.</p>
  <p>Muffled cries.</p>
  <p>Things might have gotten a little hectic afterwards, and maybe at some point he had put his hand over Ludwig's nose, too, just for a minute, enough to get Ludwig to reach up and wrench himself free. He might have been too forceful with the whole thing, too rough, but when it came down to it, Ludwig wasn't exactly gentle himself, as seemed to meet every act of hostility with one of his own.</p>
  <p>Anytime Berwald pushed too hard, Ludwig's hand tangled in his hair and pulled until he was almost wincing. When Berwald bit a little too hard, Ludwig responded by digging his fingernails so hard into Berwald's forearms that they nearly broke the skin. When Berwald pulled a limb too hard this way or that, Ludwig hands dug into his skin fiercely enough to bruise him.</p>
  <p>Hurting each other, but only barely.</p>
  <p>By the time he had flipped Ludwig over again onto his back, he was already sore, and surely Ludwig was too. Aggression had burnt out, maybe; Berwald found that once they were face to face again, both of their motions had gotten considerably gentler.</p>
  <p>Slower.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's hands weren't ever still, running everywhere they could, usually getting a shiver in response.</p>
  <p>Went by far too quickly. Could have been an hour, but felt like just a few breathless seconds.</p>
  <p>Good things always went by too quickly.</p>
  <p>Legs curled around him as he started picking up the pace again in the last moments of burning, an arch against him as Ludwig stopped breathing for a moment, and a curling of his toes. He was fairly certain that Ludwig's nails were tearing his back to kingdom come in that instant, from the way he way he was clinging to him, and maybe he would have winced if everything together hadn't felt so fuckin' incredible.</p>
  <p>Couldn't move much, suddenly, as Ludwig's iron thighs held his own in place, but he was so far gone by then that shallow movements were all he needed.</p>
  <p>A gasp below, as Ludwig started breathing again, burying his face in Berwald's collarbone with a shudder.</p>
  <p>A flash of white, a couple of stars, and he was the one holding his breath without realizing it, until his chest opened up so abruptly and forcefully that he got dizzy. If his hands hadn't been braced on the floor, they probably would have been shaking.</p>
  <p>He hung there for a while, held up on shaky arms and head bowed as he tried to catch his breath, until Ludwig's legs decided to let him go.</p>
  <p>He collapsed above Ludwig heavily enough to knock the breath out of him for a second, feeling as if his heart would explode at any moment, breathing too hard through his mouth and resting his head on a heaving chest, and Ludwig's fingers released their grip on his back, running down instead to his hair. No pulling that time; just slow, gentle strokes.</p>
  <p>His mind drifted here and there for a while, until Ludwig's fingers trailing over his neck brought him down to earth.</p>
  <p>When he lifted his head, Ludwig's nose bumping into his own, he was relieved, more than anything, to see that Ludwig was smiling. Berwald found that he couldn't smile back that time, not with everything running that was suddenly through his head.</p>
  <p>The first twinges of uncertainty.</p>
  <p>Hadn't exactly been perfect. Hadn't been bad, either. The best that could be expected, perhaps, with two inexperienced souls trying to couple. Next time would be better, and less awkward.</p>
  <p>All the same, it was the first time he could meet Ludwig's eyes and know that he and Ludwig were 'together'. Hadn't thought it was even possible, just months ago, and he hoped then that Ludwig felt for him something even halfway close to what he did. Didn't have to be as strong; just as Ludwig felt enough for him to stay.</p>
  <p>He couldn't even imagine what he'd do if Ludwig were gone.</p>
  <p>If he didn't really make Ludwig as happy as Ludwig made him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig saw his mind whirring away, no doubt, and suddenly snorted.</p>
  <p>"You know," he began, voice cracking and a bit husky and yet clearly meaning to calm, "As many times as ya tackled me when we first met, maybe I should have known that this would happen."</p>
  <p>Oh, sure.</p>
  <p>As if <em>he</em> had been the one chasing.</p>
  <p>"Many times as ya tried to kill me," he muttered in retort, "maybe I shoulda learned to watch my back."</p>
  <p>No smart comeback from Ludwig, not that time.</p>
  <p>Instead, Ludwig's hands fell onto the back of his neck, and the brush of lips against his damp forehead was beyond comforting, and so were the sudden gentleness of his fingers as they ran over his shoulder blades.</p>
  <p>Another one of those quirks about Ludwig; how he could go from being almost alarmingly aggressive to being so damn soothing. Couldn't figure it out.</p>
  <p>Crazy.</p>
  <p>Berwald loved everything about him.</p>
  <p>So he stayed there, using Ludwig as a makeshift mattress, and Ludwig might not have been able to breathe all that well, not pinned under his full weight, but Berwald stayed there on top of him all the same as sleep crept up. Couldn't bring himself to get off of him.</p>
  <p>Maybe some part of him was always terrified that Ludwig would leave.</p>
  <p>Couldn't fret for too much longer; exhaustion knocked him out.</p>
  <p>On the very last brink of consciousness, Berwald wished, desperately, that this night would never come to an end. Or, at the very least, he wished that he could awake in the morning to this exact same day and relive it over and over, stuck for eternity in a serene loop and forgetting everything and everyone outside the door.</p>
  <p>In lieu of that, perhaps, he would have been content to create new days, as long as they were like this.</p>
  <p>His mind wandered until it had drifted into the realm of dreams.</p>
  <p>At some point during the night, Ludwig attempted to wriggle out from beneath him, no doubt to catch a breather, and Berwald rolled off of him.</p>
  <p>Chilly air. Uncomfortable floor.</p>
  <p>Nope—he reached out, dragged Ludwig back, and was halfway on top of him again in a second. Ludwig gave a sleepy snort, but didn't make a move, letting him do as he would as he did in everything else.</p>
  <p>Berwald realized that sleeping alone was no longer an option for as long as he lived.</p>
  <p>Didn't feel right.</p>
  <p>They didn't move again until daylight came back.</p>
  <p>The others had likely already come home and gone to bed long before dawn.</p>
  <p>Everything was quiet.</p>
  <p>A couple of birds chirping, but no footsteps, and no doors shutting.</p>
  <p>The rise of the sun was exceedingly unwelcome.</p>
  <p>Admitting that the night had ended.</p>
  <p>It was only the thought of having one of the others see them slinking inside the house, messy and sweaty, that finally forced Berwald to get up.</p>
  <p>He shook Ludwig, who actually swatted him away in irritation until he seemed to remember where he was and in what state, and when Ludwig finally sat up, hair sticking up and very pale, he sent Berwald one of those lopsided leers that Berwald had come to adore.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't too keen on departing, though, not right away.</p>
  <p>A hand reached out, as it had so many times, and fixed Berwald's hair. This time it lingered there for a while, and Berwald shut his eyes as he had the night before when Ludwig had rested above him.</p>
  <p>Peace.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had a way of subduing him, no matter when or where. A hand on his head could make him calmer than any pill.</p>
  <p>They got dressed, or at least Berwald tried to as best he could, for Ludwig continuously unbuttoning his shirt no matter how many times he buttoned it back up, Ludwig gathered his own buttons up from the floor, and eventually they crept back down the hill, Berwald making a short detour on the way to pat down grass and hunt for his damn glasses.</p>
  <p>At the last second, Ludwig suddenly perched them back onto his nose. Must have had them the whole time. He considered himself beyond lucky that they hadn't been broken.</p>
  <p>Nothing could have ever felt as surreal as seeing Ludwig in that moment did, after so long in the dark.</p>
  <p>So many things he always wanted to say, and never could.</p>
  <p>How they got back inside without being caught would always be a mystery to him, for as much noise as they made as circled each other in the hall and then back again in the living room, too enthralled with each other to go back to sleep and too restless to stand still.</p>
  <p>Berwald finally stuck his head in the kitchen, carefully, and breathed a sigh of relief to see that no one was waiting.</p>
  <p>He'd hate to ruin that giddiness by having an awkward conversation with one of them, wondering why on earth they were slinking inside the house at the crack of dawn looking so messy.</p>
  <p>Why Ludwig's shirt was ripped open.</p>
  <p>They sat at the kitchen table after a quick change of clothes, pale Ludwig looking at him fondly as they whispered to each other about nothing at all, and Berwald had barely even realized that the others had joined them a while later.</p>
  <p>It wasn't almost like they weren't there at all.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was the center of his universe.</p>
  <p>They may have been lovesick and dumb, but they had had enough sense to wear long-sleeve shirts to hide various bruises. The fingernail marks on Berwald's arms were still bright red, and Ludwig's collar was buttoned all the way up to his chin for once, to hide the discoloration on his neck.</p>
  <p>Always best to avoid unwanted questions.</p>
  <p>It seemed that Magnus was really the only one that noticed something amiss that morning, and he furrowed his brow, reached out, and placed a palm on Ludwig's forehead.</p>
  <p>"You feelin' okay? You look kinda sick."</p>
  <p>Ludwig just smiled, squinted eyes very much alight.</p>
  <p>Berwald realized, then, that palm on Ludwig's forehead, that Magnus didn't bother him much anymore.</p>
  <p>...maybe he'd been kinda unfair to the poor guy. He had hated Magnus for the sake of love, and no doubt Magnus hated him for the same.</p>
  <p>Love drove men insane.</p>
  <p>But as it stood now, Magnus was no longer a threat. Never really had been, come to think. So. Let him touch Ludwig all he wanted. Didn't matter. Nothing Magnus could ever do would have been able to get rid of that sensation.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was his. Nothing had ever been his, his entire life.</p>
  <p>That feeling was enough to keep him there at the table long after the others had gone, chin in palm, and stare at Ludwig until he couldn't stare anymore. Ludwig stared back, always, and smiled.</p>
  <p>Berwald realized then.</p>
  <p>Didn't matter if it was spring, summer, fall or winter; whenever Ludwig was around, the sun and stars were somehow out in full force at the same time.</p>
  <p>That night, that feeling, those fireworks always came back whenever Ludwig looked at him.</p>
  <p>Love.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Mercy Seat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 17</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>The Mercy Seat </strong>
  </p>
  <p>January.</p>
  <p>Another holiday season had come and gone.</p>
  <p>They stood pretty on 1942.</p>
  <p>It struck Ludwig, sometimes, that he'd already been with these men for nearly two years. Two years. Felt like yesterday he had been determined to murder them all. Two years of having men who took him for what he was. Two years of having friends, for the first time in his life. Two years of realizing that there was life beyond Gilbert. Two years of having the freedom to attempt to discover himself.</p>
  <p>Just a few months, though, of being <em>with</em> someone for the first time.</p>
  <p>If he had his way, he'd be with Berwald for many more. The others could come and go as they pleased, as long as Berwald was constant. Would traded brotherhood, would have traded anything, for that man.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could say that he hadn't ever felt anything like it, not in his entire life; that burst of elation he felt around Berwald.</p>
  <p>Couldn't have described it, if someone had asked him to, as bad with words as he was. As new to the world as he was. Gilbert might have called him wet behind the ears still, but Ludwig knew enough to figure out that that odd feeling was called love. Different, somehow, than he had imagined. Not that he would know. He'd never been in love in his life, and it hit him a lot harder than he had thought it would. Funny, in a way, how otherwise strong and impassive men could be struck down by that odd affliction. Even soldiers. Love and war were two things that were often uttered in the same sentence, and maybe Ludwig could see why.</p>
  <p>Both were intense and frightening. Both were exhausting. Both were fought to win.</p>
  <p>Felt like war, anyway, the long, hard road to pin Berwald down. Harder, actually. It felt a lot easier to aim his rifle than it was to try and figure out what strange Berwald was feeling.</p>
  <p>Well worth the effort, though. Worth the grueling climb up the mountain. Worth the agony. Worth the struggle. Berwald was worth anything, anything at all, and Ludwig would have done it all over again, because he could confidently say that he loved that man. Couldn't say why, couldn't have put it into words, but the way Berwald made him feel was worth anything.</p>
  <p>Well, maybe the 'why' wasn't ever really important. People didn't choose who they fell in love with.</p>
  <p>Just happened, and Ludwig loved it.</p>
  <p>He loved every night spent tangled up in Berwald, every morning that he could wake up with an arm around his neck, every day that he could look over and see Berwald staring at him. Every time he turned his head to see Berwald at his side.</p>
  <p>The war kept on going, and they kept right on with it, but it was as if there was an entirely separate world behind the door, a different place, a different plane, and in that space there was only him and Berwald. The others faded into the background whenever Berwald was around.</p>
  <p>It had become <em>them</em>.</p>
  <p>Circling each other here and there.</p>
  <p>Although, at times, Ludwig realized that one war may have been over, but a new one started up to take its place.</p>
  <p>He had Berwald now, so the only thing left to do was keep him. Keeping him seemed almost as daunting as getting him had been. Thinking too much, probably, of Gilbert passing from girl to girl so quickly that Ludwig hadn't had time to learn their names. Afraid Berwald would get bored, like Gilbert had, and look for something else.</p>
  <p>So, Ludwig had started trying to keep himself close to Berwald whenever he could. Tried to keep Berwald in his sights. Not necessarily in an overbearing way, and Berwald didn't really seem to mind Ludwig's eyes on him at all times.</p>
  <p>If Berwald went outside, Ludwig followed. If Berwald spoke to Lukas or Timo, Ludwig hung around, even if he didn't understand. In the forest, he kept one eye on the scenery and the other firmly on Berwald. When Berwald wasn't with him, he waited very anxiously at the meeting point until Berwald returned, and made sure to walk him back to the house.</p>
  <p>Maybe he was so terrified of Berwald drifting away that he was being a little possessive, but it taken so long, too long, to <em>get</em> him. Just didn't want him going anywhere now. Not now.</p>
  <p>Anyway, Berwald might have let him know, in actions rather than words, when Ludwig's hovering became annoying. Hadn't said anything so far, and actually seemed rather amused anytime Ludwig was tailing him.</p>
  <p>That being said, it wasn't something they were too obvious about. They had learned to move about each other without letting the others in on it, and it wasn't too different from regular life because Berwald had never really talked all that much anyway. Still didn't, so as long as they weren't groping each other in the middle of the living room, nothing was out of the ordinary.</p>
  <p>All Ludwig had to do, if he wanted to be engaged in other activities and the others were in sight, was to walk up to Berwald and steal his glasses. His way of saying, 'You can't see what you're doing anymore, so you have to come with me.' Berwald never uttered a word of protest, and always followed behind him, no matter where or when.</p>
  <p>A game, he supposed; his way of interacting with Berwald even in front of the others. Without letting anyone else in on it. Well worth anything, to see that smile on Berwald's face anytime he was blinded, knowing something good was going to come out of it.</p>
  <p>All in all, Ludwig had been doing a pretty good job of keeping it rather low key, although it hadn't been really intentional. Hell, if he had to, he would have gladly stood up on the coffee table in the middle of their gun cleaning night, and said aloud, as he pointed a finger at Berwald, 'Hey! That's mine! Got it?'</p>
  <p>Berwald might have died in horror right then and there, but Ludwig wouldn't have really regretted it.</p>
  <p>All the same, it had been rather unspoken between them that discretion was important. Everyone knew about Magnus and Timo, sure, but they never said it aloud, and no one asked. He liked it that way he supposed, for both them and Berwald and himself. Easier that way, keeping personal life and their work separate.</p>
  <p>So, after all of that caution and all of that sneaking around, all of the work they had put into it to be careful, it did surprise him a bit to know that Timo and Lukas were quite keen on the whole thing. Actually, come to think, the only who didn't seem to get it at all was Magnus. Ludwig coulda kissed Berwald right in front of Magnus and the big idiot probably would have just said, 'Hm! You never say goodnight to me like that.'</p>
  <p>Dummy.</p>
  <p>But, Timo and Lukas knew.</p>
  <p>Timo caught Ludwig one morning, lost in his own world and feeling more than a little lovesick as he had been tinkering with a busted radio on the porch.</p>
  <p>Thinkin' of ways to make Berwald stay with him after the war. Somehow, suddenly, he found that his greatest fear wasn't the war itself, so much as what was going to happen afterwards. Terrified that Berwald wouldn't really be interested in a relationship after it ended. Thinking of how he would word it, when it came to an end and he wanted to make it clear to Berwald that he wanted to stay with him.</p>
  <p>'Hey, you, where do you think you're going? Don't think so. Unless I can come, too, then you can go.'</p>
  <p>'Aren't you going to invite me to come live with you?'</p>
  <p>'I'm going with you, whether you like it or not.'</p>
  <p>Didn't really wanna twist his arm about it, though. Honestly, Ludwig was really just hoping that the day the war ended, Berwald would turn to him and say, 'That's great. Now yer comin' home with me.'</p>
  <p>...wishful thinking, probably.</p>
  <p>Had to be forceful with Berwald, even though sometimes he really just wanted Berwald to take charge and be more assertive about what, exactly, <em>they</em> were. Figure out some ground rules. Wanted Berwald to look him in the eye and say it.</p>
  <p>Just say, 'We'.</p>
  <p>Really wanted it to be 'we'. 'Us.' Wanted it to be 'we'll be together afterwards', not, 'great, the war's over, nice knowin' ya.'</p>
  <p>Oh, god, anything but <em>that</em>.</p>
  <p>Woulda keeled over dead if Berwald had tried to shake his hand after it was all said and done, fully intent on going off on his own as he always had, without even a word. Somehow, though, it might have felt worse if he had asked to go home with Berwald, only to have Berwald look around, shuffle his feet, and then feel guilty enough to utter, 'Yeah, sure, I guess. Whatever. That's fine.'</p>
  <p>Oh, man, why was he worrying so much now? Gettin' his hopes up about things he shouldn't. Not a good time.</p>
  <p>"Ludwig."</p>
  <p>The sound of his name startled him, and he looked up so quickly that he nearly dropped the radio straight to the ground. When he glanced up, Timo was staring at him with a rather alarming leer, hands in his pockets and looking way too smug for his own good.</p>
  <p>Quirking a brow, Timo acknowledged the radio with a tilt of his head, and said, amusedly, "I'm no mechanic or nothin', but I think you fixed it about ten minutes ago."</p>
  <p>Dumbly, Ludwig looked down, and realized the radio was crackling with static.</p>
  <p>A warmth over his cheeks, and Ludwig sat the radio down gently, saying, a bit defensively, "Still sounds busted to me! Who wants to listen to static?"</p>
  <p>Timo only smiled, as he watched Ludwig with obvious interest, and then he sat down next to Ludwig on the porch, squinting in the white sunlight, and looked over. A long, hard stare, a crooked sneer, and then Timo started tormenting him.</p>
  <p>Figured.</p>
  <p>"So, what's botherin' ya, Ludwig? You look a little, ah, out of it."</p>
  <p>Ludwig fidgeted under his stare, narrowed his eyes, and grumbled, "Nothin'. Don't know what you mean."</p>
  <p>Timo wasn't having any of it, and crooned, "What if I guess?"</p>
  <p>Like they were kids again.</p>
  <p>Ludwig only sent him a stern look, but Timo seemed unfazed, and began to tick things off on his fingers, no doubt enjoying every single second of Ludwig's agitation.</p>
  <p>"Hmm. Has Magnus been bothering you?"</p>
  <p>"<em>Hardly</em>."</p>
  <p>Timo's smile was almost knowing. Knew what Ludwig was hung up about, and was fuckin' with him, like the jerk he was.</p>
  <p>"Not Magnus, eh? Hm. Have you not been feeling well?"</p>
  <p>"I'm alright."</p>
  <p>"Homesick?"</p>
  <p>He paused, because he was in a way, but in the end, he shook his head.</p>
  <p>Really just wanted to punch Timo in the face. Did he have to make it so embarrassing? Couldn't he have just come over and said, 'Ludwig, the radio's fixed. Get your mind off Berwald and find something to do.'</p>
  <p>Didn't have to drag it out.</p>
  <p>But he did, because he was Timo, and when Timo wasn't shooting people he was making them wish he was.</p>
  <p>"Lukas been creeping ya out?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig snorted at that, and muttered, "Yeah, like always."</p>
  <p>Finally, mercifully, Timo decided he had played enough, and his smile turned rather sly.</p>
  <p>"Well, then! I guess that only leaves one thing! Must be Berwald."</p>
  <p>He tried to keep the red from his cheeks, and sent Timo his best glare. Apparently the wrong thing to do.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could have gladly sunken into the wood and died of shame when Timo <em>purred</em> rather than said, "It's about time. I knew it, I knew it. You two weirdos. Had to be you two. Well! It's about damn time that Berwald finally started acting like a human being." A rough clap on his shoulder. "Hey, don't let him get too full of himself, huh? God knows we don't need another Magnus walkin' around here. I expect you to keep your man in line. Don't be afraid to put him in place when you need to." One final act of absolute destruction, when Timo smirked, lifted his head, and added, "And be careful with that shitty little bed. Don't wanna fall through it."</p>
  <p>Oh god. <em>Timo</em>!</p>
  <p>Mortified, Ludwig reached up and buried his face in his palm.</p>
  <p>Did ya haveta say it like <em>that</em>?</p>
  <p>When Timo jumped down to the ground and wandered off, Ludwig was pretty sure that, had anyone come up to him then, he might have run down and jumped into the freezing lake just so they wouldn't have seen his burning face.</p>
  <p>And the humiliation wasn't even over yet.</p>
  <p>Lukas got him that same evening, tromping around in the snow and feeling like he was just ten-years-old again.</p>
  <p>Lukas was more to the point than Timo was, like in everything else, and just settled down on the porch, crossing his legs as he said, quite frankly, "You know, I can't say I'm too happy that I'm the only one here who has to sleep alone. I would almost say that I'm offended you didn't fall in love with me. I thought you and me got on fine and all."</p>
  <p>Er.</p>
  <p>Should have just avoided the porch all together and locked himself up in the bedroom. Weirdos kept hunting him down out here.</p>
  <p>His face must have been red, when he stopped and turned to Lukas with mortification, and when he finally spoke, all he sputtered was, "How'd <em>you</em> know?"</p>
  <p>Lukas just lifted a brow in disbelief, and didn't bother to dignify that with a response. Ludwig cringed. Yeah, alright, it was kind of obvious, he supposed, to anyone actually paying attention. Which was everyone other than Magnus.</p>
  <p>Lukas eyed him head to toe, getting a squirm in response, and then he just said, with a nod of approval, "Guess that suits you." And with that, he stood up, and wandered off, leaving Ludwig to curl his lip and squint as his head started hurting.</p>
  <p>What? Whacko.</p>
  <p>Anyway, he shook it off easy enough, because Lukas was hardly as bothered by it as Timo was. Didn't seem to care much.</p>
  <p>And although Timo and Lukas knew, Ludwig was glad to find that they pretended they didn't, just as everyone else pretended that they didn't know about Magnus and Timo. Didn't say a word, and didn't send him or Berwald a second glance. Even Timo, thankfully, who Ludwig had feared would tease Berwald about it.</p>
  <p>That would have been a bit of a problem.</p>
  <p>Berwald would get bent up, the way he was, even though it may as well have been out in the open. Would have gotten moody and testy, and Ludwig had feared that maybe Berwald would have started avoiding him again as he had before. Berwald was far more anxious to be secretive than he was, far more careful and observant.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, Ludwig just didn't care. Sometimes, he wanted to say it. Wanted to acknowledge it. But Berwald didn't, and so Ludwig tried to oblige, to respect his desire for secrecy. Hell, as far as Berwald was aware, <em>no one</em> knew, not even clever Lukas and sneaky Timo. Berwald was about as dumb as Magnus, half the time.</p>
  <p>...damn good thing he was so handsome, at least, to make up for it.</p>
  <p>Well. Dumb as a brick or not, he had already laid claim to Berwald, everyone except equally dumb Magnus knew about it, and the issue seemed quite settled in his mind. Things went on as they normally did, except for maybe a few leers from Timo and few whispered innuendos from Lukas. Magnus was as oblivious as ever.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't really predict anything shaking it up, not until the war came to an end, at least. They may not have been the best at what they did, but they were pretty good at keeping to their routines. He and Berwald just seemed like one more.</p>
  <p>A particularly ferocious snowfall kept them inside for a few days, in the middle of January, and Ludwig was happy enough to take advantage of having Berwald confined to the house for a while, in light of that new sense of possessiveness. Ludwig may have found himself quite confident when dressed in that coat, when he was holding that rifle, but when it came to this sudden relationship, when it came to being part of a duo, he didn't quite feel as if he were on solid ground just yet.</p>
  <p>His own inexperience, no doubt, and self-consciousness, creeping up on him and making him look over his shoulders. Always worrying about this and that. Worried about Berwald, or, rather, what Berwald was thinking. Couldn't ever tell, with that man, so had to guess most of the time.</p>
  <p>Since Ludwig couldn't read Berwald's mind and Berwald couldn't seem to <em>speak</em> his mind, Ludwig just tried his best to guess what made Berwald happy. Felt imperative, in a way, to keep Berwald engaged and active so that Berwald wouldn't lose interest in him.</p>
  <p>His greatest fear.</p>
  <p>They sat together, drinking as the snow rose up to the porch, and Ludwig had waited until everyone was good and sloshed before he walked up and behind Berwald, who had been tilted back on the couch, head resting as he gawked blearily up at the ceiling. Ludwig reached out, when Lukas' wandering eyes were distracted, and quickly snatched Berwald's glasses from the bridge of his nose. An inhale, as drunk Berwald came to a little. The others didn't even notice, drunk as they were, and Ludwig carried on to the bedroom without a word, knowing that Berwald would come running.</p>
  <p>Always did.</p>
  <p>Could hear him clunking and fumbling down the hallway, trying to run while blind and drunk without falling on his face. Surprised the big oaf managed at all, unfocused and bleary as his eyes were, but when he somehow made it into the bedroom without dying, the drunken smile that Berwald sent him was well worth the hassle of trying to get him over to the bed.</p>
  <p>Berwald kept on trying to tug him sideways, for whatever reason, and Ludwig might have winced a little when heavy Berwald finally fell backwards onto the bed and made it creak and groan.</p>
  <p>Ugh. Timo's words in his head.</p>
  <p>That would have been embarrassing, had the bed collapsed, and Ludwig wasn't really too interested in the godawful, soul-eating leer that Timo would have sent him if they had seen Ludwig trying to fix the fuckin' bed the next day.</p>
  <p>A humiliation best avoided, so, before Berwald could move around too much, Ludwig just tossed the blanket over him and quickly squirmed down underneath. And Berwald didn't really move too much after that, except to grab handfuls of his hair. Wouldn't complain about that.</p>
  <p>Anyway, the bed remained intact.</p>
  <p>Ludwig rested on Berwald's chest afterwards, hands running over broad shoulders as tipsy Berwald started falling asleep, and he heard himself ask, lowly, "When are we going home?"</p>
  <p>Home.</p>
  <p>The first time he had been brave enough to ask, and only because Berwald was drunk.</p>
  <p>He wanted to leave Finland behind and go back to Sweden, with Berwald. Wanted to live there, in that house. Wanted to say that Berwald was his. Wanted to spend the rest of his life there, being nothing less than normal.</p>
  <p>It probably made him a horrible person, yeah, putting his own happiness before everything that was going on in the world, but, as far as he was concerned, he'd already done his time. He'd done his part by now, surely. He'd put himself out there, he'd risked his life, he'd put effort into the cause, whether it had been his or not. He could have gone off now with his head held high. Berwald, too. All of them. They'd all done enough. Didn't want to go on and brand his name into the long list of men who'd done great things. Didn't want recognition. Didn't want medals. He didn't want to be a war hero. Just wanted to wake up with Berwald every day.</p>
  <p>Hands reached up, ran through his hair, and Berwald just muttered then, barely awake, "When Timo says we can."</p>
  <p>He sighed through his nose, hands still on Berwald's shoulders, and felt a bit down.</p>
  <p>Disappointment.</p>
  <p>Yeah, sure, whenever that would be. Timo wouldn't stop until the war was over. Hadn't wanted to wait that long. It didn't ever seem to slow down. Might have lasted for another five years. Ten. Fifteen. Who could say? And, even if the war had gone on another twenty, Timo would have stuck with it the entire time. Because Timo was a better person than he was, and Timo wouldn't ever give up, as long as Finland still existed.</p>
  <p>So he only griped, "Thought <em>you</em> were the leader."</p>
  <p>Took a bit for sleepy Berwald to snort, and then reply, "Yeah, so did I."</p>
  <p>In name only. It was really Timo that led them everywhere, that controlled what happened and where, that told them what was what and why, and Ludwig knew that Timo wouldn't stop anytime soon.</p>
  <p>Berwald just followed Timo along for the ride.</p>
  <p>Sometimes...</p>
  <p>"Why can't we just go? Me and you?" he asked, a while later.</p>
  <p>No answer. Berwald had fallen asleep.</p>
  <p>Never stopped.</p>
  <p>The ache of longing was always stirring beneath. Restlessness. He couldn't seem to settle, couldn't seem to calm his mind. Couldn't stop fretting. Couldn't soothe his nerves. Seemed that getting Berwald had been the thing to make him start worrying, rather than the other way around.</p>
  <p>Couldn't seem to really focus now.</p>
  <p>Felt like something was always chasing him. Always, restless. Fidgety. Just wanted to get the hell outta here and go home before something <em>happened</em>.</p>
  <p>Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was always terrified that Berwald wouldn't be around after the war. That Berwald saw him as a wartime partner only. That, when it was all done, Berwald would just say goodbye. That he would find himself on some other side, where Berwald wasn't.</p>
  <p>Sometimes, he just wanted Berwald to say that they were 'they', and that they would still be 'they' even after the war finally stopped.</p>
  <p>Home.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>That night.</p>
  <p>Everything had been going alright until that night.</p>
  <p>It had been snowing again. Timo and Magnus had made a fire outside, under the shelter of the trees. Berwald and Lukas had gone into town for supplies, and Ludwig found himself, somehow, sitting beside a semi-drunk Timo who was trying to keep an abysmally drunk Magnus upright. Would have trailed Berwald as he always did if Magnus hadn't managed to grab a handful of him and keep him still.</p>
  <p>Had started out alright.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been a little tipsy himself.</p>
  <p>Wished, later on, that he had just gone with Berwald.</p>
  <p>Timo and Ludwig had just shared rather amused looks as Magnus nearly fell face-first into the fire and then backwards, and it wasn't too long after that that Magnus had found something so damn funny that he started laughing hard enough to make himself cry. Ludwig and Timo had smiled along with him, at least until he finally spoke, to voice what, exactly, he had suddenly found so damn humorous.</p>
  <p>And then Ludwig hadn't been smiling anymore.</p>
  <p>"So," Magnus finally slurred, voice rough and thick and barely even sitting upright, "Ludde, I hear—I hear that you got a thing for old Berwald."</p>
  <p>Ice slid down his back. Not at the words, but at the tone. As if Magnus had heard the oddest thing imaginable and was perfectly content mocking it. And that stung, a little.</p>
  <p>Ludwig couldn't really help but shoot a quick glare at Timo, hoping that the accusation and irritation he felt was well enough obvious. Must have been; Timo looked mortified, cheeks tinting red and eyes narrowing, and then he turned his eyes to Magnus and tried very hard to strike him dead right there with looks alone.</p>
  <p>Oh, god, somehow trying to envision that conversation was just as mortifying. How had Timo said it? 'Hey, guess what, did you know Ludwig is in love with Berwald? Isn't that funny?'</p>
  <p>Magnus had probably laughed as hard then as he was now.</p>
  <p>Magnus hated Berwald, but it hardly seemed fair to say it like that. To make it sound like something he should have been ashamed of.</p>
  <p>Magnus was thoroughly unfazed by the murderous glare Timo was sending him, still leering at Ludwig, a strange, almost snide half-smile upon his face. When Ludwig finally regained control of his body, all he could really think to do was rest his chin in his palm and glower over at the lake.</p>
  <p>What could he have said to that?</p>
  <p>But before either he or Timo could utter a word, Magnus clapped a heavy hand on his knee and leaned back so far that he nearly topped, and then he was fuckin' laughing again.</p>
  <p>Ludwig thought that, somewhere beneath the heat of the fire and the chill of the air, he felt a little dizzy. A little hurt.</p>
  <p>Seconds of uncontrollable, maniacal cackling, and then Magnus sucked in a great breath and wheezed, eagerly, "Oh—oh, Ludwig, I never woulda thought! Oh man, you—ha ha, ah, you!" A helpless giggle. "I gotta say, I can't understand your taste! A jerk like <em>that</em>! What are you <em>thinkin</em>'? Huh? What's the matter with you?"</p>
  <p>Magnus dissolved into titters, and Timo looked for all the world as though he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and die. Not a bad idea. Timo shoulda known better than to tell Magnus in the first place, with his big mouth and his distaste for Berwald. Really, what else could have happened?</p>
  <p>Ludwig, cheeks blazing, clenched his jaw and tried to gather up the shreds of his dignity, and sat stark still, keeping his eyes firmly ahead as the dismally drunk Magnus giggled, sloshing his glass into the dirt surrounding the fire.</p>
  <p>Oh. Maybe Berwald had been right to want to keep it a secret. Berwald had been the smart one, to be discreet. Because this sure as hell felt pretty goddamn miserable.</p>
  <p>It wasn't that Magnus knew; he didn't care about that. Never had. It was just the way Magnus had <em>said</em> it. The derisive way it had come out of his mouth. The way that Magnus was able to take the thing that Ludwig loved the most and turn it into something to be ashamed about. Didn't think he could have felt embarrassment when it came to Berwald, but Magnus somehow had managed to accomplish that feat.</p>
  <p>A flash of movement, and furious Timo had suddenly grabbed Magnus by the arm and wrenched him up to his feet, and Ludwig didn't say a damn word as Timo hauled Magnus up the hill and towards the bathhouse.</p>
  <p>Shouting in Swedish.</p>
  <p>Why bother? A little late to berate Magnus now, and pointless when he was that drunk. Like trying to reason with a mad bull. The shouting stopped when there was the dull sound of a punch. For a second, Ludwig thought that maybe drunk Magnus had got one in on Timo, but it was a fuming, furious Timo that came stalking back down the hill, and he went straight by Ludwig and onto the path that led down into town. Ludwig watched him go, having neither the will nor desire to even move anymore.</p>
  <p>Just wanted this miserable night to be over with.</p>
  <p>Wanted Berwald to hurry up and come back to take his mind from this. Probably wouldn't have bothered him so much if he weren't so damn restless suddenly. If he weren't so scared that Berwald would be gone with the war.</p>
  <p>A minute later, Magnus came stumbling back down, tripping over his own feet, and when he somehow plopped back down, Ludwig stared blankly ahead as he struggled not to either die in humiliation or punch Magnus in the nose again. Both were equally tempting. Magnus had already been punched once, though, so Ludwig decided to lay off for a while.</p>
  <p>Anyway, Magnus looked a little subdued, now. A little sad. But not really regretful. He sat there, snow collecting in his hair and cheek red and already bruising, and then he cursed under his breath and took up his glass, downing the last of it with a tilted head.</p>
  <p>The snow fell harder than ever.</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>The fire crackled.</p>
  <p>Magnus shook his head, to himself, and then with a great sigh, his bleary eyes found Ludwig's after a struggle, and he sent him a dreary smile.</p>
  <p>"See?" he suddenly whispered, slurred voice harsh and low against the drifting snow, "I always fuck everything up. That's why I say I don't understand your taste, Ludde."</p>
  <p>For once, he didn't bother to say, 'Don't call me that.' He didn't have the heart even to speak.</p>
  <p>Magnus carried on, head hanging and staring into the fire rather dismally, and then he added, "There's somethin' the matter with you, alright. Guys like you. Like Timo. Why would you ever wanna go for guys like us? Ha!" A coarse laugh, and Magnus hung his head farther, barking, "Us! Yeah. Fuckin' Berwald. Christ, I hate that son of a bitch, and goddamn, maybe I hate him so fuckin' much 'cause he's just like me."</p>
  <p>A hand raised to rub at the bruise on the side of his face, and then suddenly Magnus' bleary eyes were boring into his own with a short burst of clarity.</p>
  <p>"Hey. You stay away from him. Just let it go. Guys like us. It's not ever worth it. Don't waste your time with Berwald. He'll just fuck everything up, in the end. Like I do. You can't... Don't bother. He's doesn't... Ah hell, I can't say it. Oh, you just gotta trust me, Ludwig. Get over him, and don't ever tell him. You can't tell him."</p>
  <p>The words <em>hurt</em>.</p>
  <p>Tell him? It was a little late for that. Magnus must have been confused about something. Or maybe Ludwig was the one who was confused. Didn't get what Magnus was tryin' to <em>say</em>.</p>
  <p>'I can't say it.'</p>
  <p>Say what?</p>
  <p>Magnus went quiet after that, though, and said nothing more. And by all rights, Ludwig should have just let Magnus stay there, but it was only because Magnus looked so damn miserable suddenly that Ludwig still helped him back up the porch and into the house. Not long after Ludwig tossed him down, Magnus collapsed back onto his bed, passing out dead drunk.</p>
  <p>Ludwig watched him for a bit, head hurting and feeling a little drunk himself, before he finally trekked out. His feet felt a little heavy.</p>
  <p>That tone of Magnus' voice. Like being in love with Berwald was wrong, somehow. Wondering what Magnus had really wanted to say.</p>
  <p>Didn't sleep well that night, even as Berwald's arm was heavy over his chest.</p>
  <p>Kept on thinking too much.</p>
  <p>Didn't get it. Didn't understand why Magnus had taken something that wasn't even his business so personally. Magnus and Berwald hated each other, sure, but that was hardly any reason to bring it down on <em>him</em>. Their strife and conflicts had nothing to do with him and Berwald.</p>
  <p>Didn't get it.</p>
  <p>The morning didn't feel much better, and neither did Magnus, when Ludwig went straight into his bedroom.</p>
  <p>Sitting there on the bed, hung over a trash can, Magnus held his head in his hands between his knees, grunting as he fought with the nausea that was keeping him doubled over. Ludwig stood above him, but made no move to comfort. Loved Magnus. Loved that man. He might have even gone so far as to say that he had grown to love Magnus as much as he loved Gilbert.</p>
  <p>But the words of the night before still hurt. Still stung. Magnus had hit a nerve. Let Magnus suffer a little now, as he deserved.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't even really sure why he was standing there in that moment. Would have been easy to ignore Magnus altogether and let it go. Didn't mean anything, Magnus' words. Him and Berwald had already settled into each other.</p>
  <p>Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was his own weak self-confidence.</p>
  <p>Whatever it was, now all he really wanted was for Magnus to explain himself a little better. Wanted to know what Magnus had been trying to say. If nothing else, he at least wanted to hear him out and then say, 'It's done and over with, so just leave us alone, won't ya?'</p>
  <p>At least, part of him did.</p>
  <p>Almost afraid to know. Afraid of what Magnus would say this time around.</p>
  <p>In a way, Ludwig actually hoped that Magnus just wouldn't remember any of it, and Timo would certainly have enough sense not to tell Magnus a second time. That would have been a small mercy, anyway, but one that was denied him.</p>
  <p>Magnus remembered everything, and when he finally stopped throwing up long enough to talk, the first words he gasped to Ludwig were, "I'm sorry about last night. I am."</p>
  <p>Well. Magnus had apologized much faster this time than the last. Had learned his lesson, no doubt, about who could last longer between them.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't say a word, though, and let Magnus squirm.</p>
  <p>And, as it turned out, Magnus wasn't exactly as sorry as he claimed. At least, not about what he had said, so much as how it had made Ludwig feel, and he said as much, when he was able to speak again.</p>
  <p>"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Ludwig, I really am, I... I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I shouldn't'a said it like that. I should have figured out a better way to say it. I'm sorry, if I made you feel bad, but I had to tell you. You gotta just stay away from him. Don't even bother. Just leave him alone."</p>
  <p>So much for that.</p>
  <p>This time, though, Ludwig had the courage to ask, firmly, "Why?"</p>
  <p>If Magnus had a reason, then give it to him. Otherwise, just drop it, and leave them alone. When pressed, however, Magnus seemed to withdraw. If he had a reason, then apparently it was one he didn't wanna say aloud.</p>
  <p>"Just leave him alone. Not even worth your time. You're better than that, anyway. Timo, too."</p>
  <p>Timo?</p>
  <p>Stubbornly, Ludwig kept on, because he wasn't letting this go anymore. Not now.</p>
  <p>"Tell me why, then."</p>
  <p>Magnus, just as stubbornly, shook his head.</p>
  <p>Anger.</p>
  <p>"Say it."</p>
  <p>"Oh, Ludwig," Magnus moaned, beseechingly, "Why bother? Just let it go. Don't make me <em>say</em> it. I can't even stand it."</p>
  <p>"Just say it!"</p>
  <p>If he was angry then, it became apparent that Magnus was, too, and he was so irritated that he pulled himself up to his feet, hangover and all, and struck out with his leg to kick the edge of the bed.</p>
  <p>"Alright!" Magnus finally roared, so frustrated all of a sudden that he kicked the bed again, "Alright! I'll say it! I'll fuckin' say it, if that's what you want!"</p>
  <p>Ludwig waited, hands clenched at his sides and heart pounding in anxiety, and his anger might have been more of a fear then. Whatever had Magnus riled up this much might not have been anything he really wanted to hear after all.</p>
  <p>Too late; Magnus hung his head, his anger dulling, and then he uttered, weakly, "Don't you know? You can't tell Berwald. You can't. He's... Ah, hell, Ludwig. Berwald's in love with Timo. Didn't you know? I thought you knew."</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's first reaction was to scoff, and for a wonderful second, that fear completely evaporated. Well! Was that it? Ridiculous. That was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard Magnus say. Magnus was confused, alright. He slept in Berwald's bed. Not Timo.</p>
  <p>But when Magnus looked back up at him, that terrible misery on his face, something in Ludwig foundered a little.</p>
  <p>Just for that look on Magnus' face. The tone of Magnus' voice when he moaned, "That's why...we hate each other so much. Didn't you know? Can't you see? That's why I don't want ya to go near him. I hate to see you get hurt like that. If I knew and I didn't say anything, then it would be my fault, wouldn't it? If I let you fall in love without tellin' ya, that would be my fault, too."</p>
  <p>The horrible sincerity of how Magnus said it, as if everything in Magnus were so <em>sure</em> of this. As if this were something that had really been a source of intense concern for Magnus.</p>
  <p>Doubt. Confusion.</p>
  <p>Something odd hit Ludwig then, out of nowhere.</p>
  <p>That day, so long ago, when he had been fresh amongst them and still so awkward, and Berwald had been so morose and so irritable when Timo and Magnus had gone into town alone with each other.</p>
  <p>Why did he remember that?</p>
  <p>Little things. Quick glances and odd looks.</p>
  <p>The way he had once thought to himself that it was strange, that huge Berwald was always bossed by smaller Timo. The way Magnus and Berwald couldn't pass down the hall without broadening their shoulders and straightening up and trying to best each other with glares alone.</p>
  <p>Magnus' eyes had fallen to the ground, and he shook his head, adding, "I know that he wasn't talkin' to you, all that time, back when... Well, he wasn't talkin' to anybody."</p>
  <p>Berwald's long months of silence, before their fight, when he had been so <em>angry</em> because he didn't understand why Berwald had been ignoring him. That bleary night that had been the turning point so long ago. Waking up that morning and wondering why Berwald hadn't been talking to him anymore.</p>
  <p>Did Magnus know why?</p>
  <p>Apparently, because Magnus finally grumbled, "He saw us. Me and... He got so mad, and we got into a fight, and I told him, you know, that Timo never did love him. He kept on trying for so long, and it made me so fuckin' <em>mad</em>, because I worked so hard to get Timo, and I'm damn well gonna keep him, you know? Maybe I said some things I shouldn't've, but...and after that, he just didn't talk to anyone. I knew you were mad, too, but I didn't think..."</p>
  <p>A short, abashed stutter, as everything in Magnus seemed to collapse a little, having to voice this thing that must have been suffocating him for a long time.</p>
  <p>"I-I woulda told ya earlier, if I'd known that that was why you were mad, just because Berwald wasn't talkin' to ya. I woulda told ya. I can't stand to see anything happen to you. You're like... I feel like you're my damn brother, you know? I love ya, I really do, and that's why I have to tell ya. I have to. No one else was going to, I guess, so I have to. I didn't wanna say it. I didn't wanna make you feel bad, but <em>someone</em> had to tell ya."</p>
  <p>A sharp pang in his chest, and this time the doubt had grown so much that he couldn't ignore it anymore.</p>
  <p>Building up in the back of his mind. All those little things started piling up.</p>
  <p>Berwald had never told him why that sudden change of mood had occurred in the first place, and after a while, Ludwig had just stopped worrying about it. Berwald, avoiding him and everyone else all those months. All of that brooding. That sneaking away. The refusal to look at him. That anger.</p>
  <p>He had always wondered why, had always wondered what had happened, and now he wished that he didn't know at all.</p>
  <p>Because Magnus had told Berwald that Timo had never loved him. Because Berwald had seen Timo and Magnus being intimate.</p>
  <p>Because Berwald was in love with Timo.</p>
  <p>Timo.</p>
  <p>No matter how hard Ludwig had tried, Berwald had finally only touched him after he had caught Magnus and Timo. After he had been forced to see that they were together. After he had had to admit defeat and give Timo up.</p>
  <p>Suddenly then, something seemed to click in his head, in his heart, and the world came crashing down around his feet out of nowhere. The wind seemed knocked out of him without him ever being touched. Couldn't stop his face from falling, and then his head, and all of a sudden he couldn't even feel his fuckin' legs, he felt so numb.</p>
  <p>Stupid.</p>
  <p>Suddenly everything was cast in a different light, everything, and oh <em>god</em>! Oh god, he felt so <em>stupid</em>. He felt <em>so </em>stupid. Thinking back on it, looking back on everything, seeing everything all over again with a new perspective.</p>
  <p>
    <em>'When can we go home?'</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>'When Timo says we can.'</em>
  </p>
  <p>Oh. <em>Timo</em>.</p>
  <p>It was as if the sun had gone out, from the sudden wave of misery he felt then. Felt so stupid. How had he never noticed that? When he looked at it now, when he rethought everything, it seemed as obvious to him as it must have to Magnus.</p>
  <p>Hadn't ever been so humiliated.</p>
  <p>"You couldn't have told me this sooner, huh?" he finally spat, bitterly, eyes firmly on the floor, far too mortified to look up and meet Magnus' gaze.</p>
  <p>He had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. Never. Couldn't even look anyone in the eye right now, he was <em>so</em> embarrassed.</p>
  <p>"How would I?" Magnus moaned, weakly. "I didn't know! I never woulda thought... I didn't know you felt that way about him. How could I have known? You never said anything. You could do so much better, I never woulda guessed you felt that way. I didn't know."</p>
  <p>'Never woulda thought.'</p>
  <p>Those words stung, now, because looking back on it, it was all too clear why Magnus had been blind to the whole thing. Why Magnus had been the only one who didn't get it. Why Magnus would never even have guessed.</p>
  <p>Magnus had known all along that Berwald was in love with someone else, so why <em>would</em> he think it?</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been the blind one the whole time.</p>
  <p>Afterwards, he felt as if he shut down a little without him controlling. Going automatic. He felt himself moving to the door, even though he wasn't really aware of it.</p>
  <p>Magnus didn't move from where he stood, and seemed about as embarrassed as Ludwig felt.</p>
  <p>"I'm <em>sorry</em>," came the disheartened call from behind, as he grabbed the doorknob. "I'm sorry. I didn't wanna say it. I just...didn't want you to feel like an idiot."</p>
  <p>He pulled the door open, gripped the doorframe in his hand, and tried to swallow the nausea and the hurt, and only gave a short, dull scoff.</p>
  <p>"It's a little late for <em>that</em>."</p>
  <p>Already felt like a great goddamn idiot.</p>
  <p>When he walked through that door and shut it, it felt as though something had burned him, from the way his chest stung. Dazed. Could barely see straight, but felt himself wandering to the front door.</p>
  <p>Cool air. Walking through mist.</p>
  <p>And for a second there, stepping outdoors and into the sun, he had almost shaken it off. Almost cast it aside. He had almost stood up straight then and said, 'Well, so what!'</p>
  <p>Berwald was his, now. They were together. Timo had Magnus, and he had Berwald. They were together.</p>
  <p>The flash of denial vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and left more doubt in its wake.</p>
  <p>Together.</p>
  <p>...weren't they? Berwald was always too scared to let anyone know, too self-conscious. So secretive. So embarrassed. Berwald was a shy guy.</p>
  <p>Or had it always been something else? Was Berwald still holdin' out for Timo? Was he always so careful because he wanted to keep his standing in Timo's eyes? So that if anything ever happened and Timo found himself without Magnus, if Timo changed his mind, then there wouldn't be any obstacles? No hard decisions. No explaining.</p>
  <p>Something else finally made sense, after so long.</p>
  <p>Why Berwald hated Magnus so much. Why they fought. Why Berwald still glared at Magnus even after all of this time. Why they never had kind words for each other. Why, after fighting side by side, they still couldn't be <em>civil</em> to each other.</p>
  <p>The more and more he thought about it, the more and more everything seemed to connect. Not in the way he wanted it to, either. It was as if everything had sloped and was rolling downhill.</p>
  <p>It struck him then :</p>
  <p>Every time that he and Berwald had been intimate, every single time, had been an instance in which Berwald had been without his glasses. That stupid fuckin' game he had started, taking Berwald's glasses from him anytime he wanted them to be alone.</p>
  <p>He looked over, dumbly, at Timo, who was standing in the yard and observing the forest without a clue.</p>
  <p>Timo's hair. Same color as his. Same length. Same shade when it lit up in the sun. Timo was shorter, but essentially they had the same build. Same size hands. Nearly the same color skin. Similar noses and chins.</p>
  <p>So similar, Ludwig was realizing, that really the only difference between them was eye color and the pitch of their voices.</p>
  <p><em> Oh</em>—</p>
  <p>Berwald had only kissed him first that night after he had taken away Berwald's glasses. And he had been the one to instigate every other time.</p>
  <p>It hurt, more than losing Gilbert had, to think that every time Berwald had rolled over on top of him was because it was so easy for him to pretend that he was Timo. That Berwald had been using him as a surrogate because Timo was already taken. That he had made the first move on Berwald, and that Berwald had just thought, 'Ah, hell. Why not?'</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't want anyone to know, because Berwald didn't love him, not really.</p>
  <p>Berwald loved Timo. Always had.</p>
  <p>And Ludwig couldn't even really justify his own worth, then, not to defend himself in his own mind against Timo. Couldn't stand there and think of one single thing that Berwald would have found appealing in him when he was compared to Timo. One thing that he had that Timo didn't. One thing about himself that was better than Timo.</p>
  <p>Not one single thing.</p>
  <p>Timo was really everything he had always wanted to be.</p>
  <p>Brave. Timo had always taken charge without fear, leading them across borders and through armies without even flinching. Dedicated. Timo had never abandoned Finland, not once, no matter how bad things had gotten. Resourceful. Timo charged forward with nothing, and somehow always came out on top. Confident. Timo followed his own advice, did what he thought was right, and didn't change his opinion for anyone or anything.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been so terrified that first time they had gone out. Berwald could have seen it. He had abandoned Germany when things had started getting dark, not trying to stay and see it through. Berwald had known that. He had gotten lost in the woods. Berwald had thought him so incapable of getting out that he had gone back in himself. He had bowed to the will of others so many times that he didn't even know who he really was. Berwald had noticed that, in how they had bent him to <em>their</em> will.</p>
  <p>He had tried hard to emulate Timo. To take charge the way he always did. To go out bravely and try to prove himself capable. To lead. He had tried to be one of them. Tried to fit in. Tried to find his place. Tried to assert himself and feel like he belonged.</p>
  <p>Just hadn't ever been able to.</p>
  <p>If Timo hadn't taken his side after that shift of allegiances, then the others would have cast him out without a second thought. In fact, come to think, only Timo's good graces had ever kept him there in the first place. Berwald had wanted to ship him off. Hadn't even wanted him there. Not once. It had taken Berwald the longest to come around. Had taken him the longest to stop looking at Ludwig like an outsider.</p>
  <p>Timo had saved him.</p>
  <p>Everything hurt.</p>
  <p>Easy, to see why Magnus had fallen in love with Timo. In a way, he supposed, he could see just as easily why Berwald had, too.</p>
  <p>Timo was magnetic, with that passion and that energy and that lofty way of doing whatever he wanted. The way he talked. The way he was so bold at fighting the Reds and then so bold at home. The way he was funny, even after coming home covered in dirt and sometimes blood. The way he was always the center of attention in the room. The way men followed him. The way Timo could just walk in out of nowhere and somehow start leading.</p>
  <p>Hurt.</p>
  <p>He'd tried so hard, so hard, to make Berwald <em>happy</em>. To get him to feel that horrible, wonderful sense of absolute <em>want</em> that he felt. He had wanted Berwald to love him, so much so that maybe he had forced himself to see what he wanted to see. The thought of Berwald not being interested had always been so hard to swallow, and maybe he had just stretched things out in his head.</p>
  <p>Had ignored the obvious in favor of the palatable.</p>
  <p>The more and more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. The stupider he felt. Timo was attractive, in every way possible. Timo was better than him, in every sense. There was a reason Berwald had always followed Timo.</p>
  <p>"Hey."</p>
  <p>He couldn't compete.</p>
  <p>"Ludwig?"</p>
  <p>A hand pressed into his shoulder, and when he looked up, he realized he had sat himself down on the edge of the porch. Timo was standing above him, smiling and looking eager. Hadn't heard him walk up.</p>
  <p>Timo.</p>
  <p>Blameless Timo, who couldn't help that he was charming. Not Timo's fault.</p>
  <p>Timo shook his shoulder, trying to get his attention.</p>
  <p>"Ludwig! Come on. I got us a good route today!"</p>
  <p>He turned his head away and didn't look over again; couldn't, couldn't even face Timo now, and maybe Timo could see him breathing through his mouth, could see the crinkle of his brow, could see the hurt on his face.</p>
  <p>The hand left his shoulder, and flew up to his forehead.</p>
  <p>His face was burning, alright, from fuckin' shame, but Timo mercifully mistook it for fever.</p>
  <p>"Oh," came the concerned whisper. "You're hot. Why didn't you say something? Here, I'll get you some medicine."</p>
  <p>Footsteps.</p>
  <p>He was so out of it then that Timo was already back without ever seeming to have left. He took the pills that Timo shoved in his hand and put them back without thought.</p>
  <p>Wanted to cry. Head was pounding.</p>
  <p>Timo looked around, seeing that they were alone, and smiled a little.</p>
  <p>"Say, Berwald's not around! Think I could sneak out without ya? It's nothin' today, really. Easy. He shouldn't be too mad, don't ya think?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried to speak, and his voice cracked when he whispered, "Guess not."</p>
  <p>Another clap on his shoulder.</p>
  <p>"Hey, you look like shit, you know? Go get some sleep. I'll be back before long. Don't tell Berwald, eh?"</p>
  <p>Berwald.</p>
  <p>Tell him? Not a problem; at this rate, he wouldn't even be able to <em>look</em> at Berwald, let alone try to talk to him. Wouldn't be able to face him.</p>
  <p>So he nodded, dumbly, and Timo hopped off the porch and started jogging down the drive.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just stared down at the ground, and was alarmingly aware of the steady crumpling of his face, but couldn't really find the strength to get up and go hide in some corner. Couldn't move. Shame.</p>
  <p>It had been in his head. Had been the whole fuckin' time.</p>
  <p>For the first time in so long, he just felt like giving up. Everything was wrong.</p>
  <p>It had taken so long for Berwald to even touch him. So much <em>fighting </em>for him. So much effort, so many months, to even get Berwald to look at him. He thought Berwald was just thick, but that hadn't been the case.</p>
  <p>He knew why now.</p>
  <p>Berwald's eyes had been on someone else, so he hadn't even noticed Ludwig, standing there on the sideline. But Timo had gone to Magnus, hadn't he, and so Berwald had had to <em>settle</em> for Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Settle.</p>
  <p>That word hurt so <em>much</em>. He had only been a last resort. He'd put so much effort into it, and, in the end, Berwald was only a man. A man could only resist so much, even if it didn't mean anything to them.</p>
  <p>He felt <em>stupid</em>.</p>
  <p>These men called him 'brother', but his absence wouldn't stop any of their worlds. He had come into their world so abruptly that he could probably leave it just as abruptly, and they would adapt to his going as easily as they had his coming. Timo and Magnus would go on as they always had, together. Lukas wouldn't have changed his routine for even a minute.</p>
  <p>And Berwald would have carried on.</p>
  <p>Hurt.</p>
  <p>They hadn't ever really needed him.</p>
  <p>That constant fear in the back of his mind, that Berwald wouldn't be with him when the war ended. Not a fear at all. Just his own rationality telling him what was what, whether he had wanted to hear it or not.</p>
  <p>Another Magnus, Timo had said. Too late. There was another Magnus, always had been, only one that had fallen a bit behind the other one.</p>
  <p>Berwald had followed Timo, wherever he had gone.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. I'd Rather Die Young</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 18</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>I'd Rather Die Young</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Things were different suddenly.</p>
  <p>Dark.</p>
  <p>Shadows and mist. Despair. Confusion.</p>
  <p>Hurt.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wouldn't look at him. Wouldn't talk to him. Couldn't even seem to be in the same room with him. Wouldn't touch him. When Berwald tried to corner him, Ludwig still somehow slunk away. When Berwald reached out and grabbed his arm, Ludwig lowered his head and stared at the floor until Berwald finally backed off.</p>
  <p>His eyes were always distant. His shoulders always low. His hands trembled frequently. Proud, stoic, determined, fearless Ludwig suddenly seemed so <em>defeated</em>.</p>
  <p>Berwald hadn't ever seen him like that.</p>
  <p>The snows of February were high, and Ludwig seemed lower than ever. Berwald somehow felt under the dirt.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was sleeping on the couch. Two damn weeks of his bed being empty.</p>
  <p>Why?</p>
  <p>Just one day, out of the blue, Ludwig had stopped looking at him, and Berwald, more than anything else, felt helpless. Felt scared and isolated. Anxious. Jittery. Felt as if he were losing Ludwig, somehow, after having only so recently acquired him. Didn't understand. Had he done something wrong? Had made a wrong step, somewhere back there, that had upset Ludwig? Had he said something offhandedly that had wounded Ludwig without him being aware of it?</p>
  <p>Wanted to know, but Ludwig wouldn't talk to him anymore.</p>
  <p>Berwald regretted, most of all, that he couldn't really be angry with Ludwig, because he had done this himself. He had done this same thing to Ludwig not too long ago, but good god, he didn't realize how much this hurt. How much it <em>hurt</em> to be put in the dark like that for what seemed like no reason.</p>
  <p>Was this what Ludwig had felt those long months? Was this what had made him so angry? Felt awful. As if the world had flipped upside down.</p>
  <p>What had he done? He had tried his best to keep Ludwig happy. Tried to do everything he could to make sure Ludwig was content. Would have done anything for Ludwig, anything he had asked, if it had made Ludwig feel better. All Ludwig had to do was tell him, and Berwald would have done it. Anything.</p>
  <p>Just to have Ludwig talking to him again.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe half the time. Didn't <em>understand</em>.</p>
  <p>And the worst part of the whole thing, worse than the silence and the distant looks and the pursed lips and the trembling hands, was the fact that <em>Magnus</em> was the only one that seemed to know what was going on with Ludwig.</p>
  <p>That was worse, somehow.</p>
  <p>Timo and Lukas seemed just as confused as Berwald was, but fuckin' Magnus, of all people, seemed keen to Ludwig's mind. Couldn't take that, really couldn't. Couldn't stomach Magnus being the one who understood what was going on in Ludwig's head. If it had been Timo or Lukas, that would have been better, but not Magnus.</p>
  <p>Hated Magnus.</p>
  <p>That man was everything he couldn't stand, it was to that man now that Ludwig went whenever his face started falling.</p>
  <p>Berwald could have just cried himself to sleep, seein' them like that.</p>
  <p>That might have been worse than Ludwig turning away from him. Turning away from him and going to Magnus, as he had once before. That had been different, though; that had felt different. Before, Timo had been smiling the whole time along with them. It had been different, and Timo had been perfectly content with it.</p>
  <p>Not this time.</p>
  <p>This time, Timo looked just as agitated and confused as Berwald felt. Timo didn't know what was going on anymore than he did, Timo didn't understand why Magnus and Ludwig were suddenly looking at each other like that, and sitting there and saying that was one of the most terrifying moments of Berwald's life. Thinking that both of them were sitting there now, scratching their heads, not knowing what to do as Magnus and Ludwig leaned in to each other and whispered away, because maybe they were losing the ones they loved to each other.</p>
  <p>If Ludwig went to <em>Magnus</em>—</p>
  <p>Oh, god, Berwald couldn't even. Didn't even know what he would have done. Didn't even know what might have crossed his mind. Might have fled into the night into enemy territory. Might have curled up into a ball of misery and cried until he passed out.</p>
  <p>Might have shot Magnus.</p>
  <p>Couldn't stand seeing them like that. Together, as if in their own world. That strange look on Magnus' face, halfway between melancholy and determination. Strange. Berwald couldn't figure out Magnus' halfhearted look; shoulda been happy, shouldn't he, having stolen yet another thing Berwald adored. Why did he look so damn sad?</p>
  <p>Bitterness.</p>
  <p>It was Magnus who came forward, pressing his face close to Ludwig's, to whisper words when Ludwig stood silent and morose. It was Magnus who managed to catch Ludwig's gaze when he was staring off blankly into space. It was Magnus who could reach out and place a hand on Ludwig's shoulder and draw something that was almost (but not quite) a smile from him. It was Magnus who could grab Ludwig's hands within his own when they shook and grip them until they were steady with low words. It was Magnus who could put out a hand and force Ludwig's chin up when it was hanging down.</p>
  <p>Berwald hated it.</p>
  <p>Magnus, snatching everyone out from under him.</p>
  <p>The worst thought imaginable, but he couldn't help but consider it.</p>
  <p>Couldn't help but consider the fact that maybe Ludwig was suddenly so distant and aloof with him now because maybe Ludwig had been distracted and charmed by Magnus. And by that, maybe Magnus was turning Ludwig against him. Maybe Ludwig was avoiding him now because he had seen something worthwhile in someone else.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't really too special, all things considered. Wasn't the easiest to approach. Wasn't the most good-looking. Wasn't the best at holding conversations.</p>
  <p>Magnus was so handsome, as bold as Ludwig was, so outgoing. Charming.</p>
  <p>Maybe...</p>
  <p>Maybe he had misunderstood everything. He had known, on some level, that Ludwig had only used Magnus before to irritate Berwald, but it didn't feel that way this time. Felt worse. Maybe he had been wrong, the whole time. Maybe Ludwig and Magnus had had something <em>more </em>there the entire time.</p>
  <p>Maybe Ludwig had been interested in Berwald for mystery's sake, and now that he had had him found him suddenly boring.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't go out with Lukas and Magnus anymore, because, quite frankly, he was a little scared of being armed around Magnus. Scared of what he would do if he lost his temper, as he had so many times before in his youth. Being around Magnus with a gun now wasn't a good idea. Going with Timo and Ludwig, though, hardly seemed any better. Ludwig just so looked so lost all the time, and the rifle hung rather low in his hands, as if it had suddenly become too heavy for him. He looked as if he didn't really know too well where he was or why.</p>
  <p>Even Timo, passionate Timo, had started lessening their outings, because a distracted Ludwig was a useless Ludwig, and Timo needed Ludwig alive and well to keep <em>him</em> alive and well.</p>
  <p>And all Berwald could do, in the meantime, was to put his chin in his palm and glare holes through the back of Magnus' head as Magnus whispered in Ludwig's ear. Thinking. Brooding. So many thoughts that he couldn't even pin any down.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Every night they had drank together, every whisper they had uttered, every time that had huddled together, every laugh, every joke, every venture, every time that Magnus came crawling back to Ludwig after saying something stupid, every time that Ludwig had laughed it off and forgiven so easily, every time they were <em>together</em>.</p>
  <p>Maybe it had been something more the whole time.</p>
  <p>He couldn't bear it.</p>
  <p>He stayed up at night, laying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, and yet no matter how long he waited or with how much hope, Ludwig never slipped through the door. No movements in the house at all.</p>
  <p>Couldn't stand sleeping alone now. Couldn't stand rolling over and having only sheets to throw his arm over. He had gotten used to Ludwig being there, to warmth beside of him. Hated it. Too cold.</p>
  <p>Ludwig never came.</p>
  <p>It was steadily grating him, and every day that Magnus put his hand on Ludwig's shoulder, something inside of him lit up a little more. Every day, he felt himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.</p>
  <p>He'd come here with these men, he'd tried to keep them together, he'd tried to keep them calm no matter what, but suddenly that duty, that leadership, didn't <em>matter</em>.</p>
  <p>What mattered was Ludwig, and Magnus' hand upon him. That was too much.</p>
  <p>Finally, after trying for so long, Berwald gathered the courage to corner Ludwig one evening, placing his arms on either side of the wall so Ludwig couldn't flee, and he almost didn't recognize his own voice when he asked, miserably, "What did I do?"</p>
  <p>A short silence, in which Ludwig seemed to slump all the more.</p>
  <p>Beyond his own hurt, he could see the odd look of sadness on Ludwig's face when he finally glanced up. A soft, rather mournful whisper.</p>
  <p>"Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong."</p>
  <p>For just a second, Ludwig's eyes met his own, just a second, before falling back down to the floor. And Ludwig wouldn't say another word, then, no matter how hard Berwald pressed.</p>
  <p>Agitated.</p>
  <p>Somehow, Ludwig's answer had only made him feel worse. Because if <em>he</em> hadn't done anything wrong, as Ludwig said, then that really only left Magnus, didn't it? Worse.</p>
  <p>One morning in the middle of February.</p>
  <p>Everything had been building up. Everything had been piling upon him. Felt stifled and frustrated and volatile.</p>
  <p>When Berwald had stepped out of the bedroom that morning, he could feel everything coming to a grinding halt.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was standing in the living room, staring out of the window, and Magnus' hand was on his back. Low whispering in their dialect. Timo and Lukas were there too, surely, but Berwald didn't see them. Only saw that hand.</p>
  <p>Couldn't go on like this, he couldn't, and he had to <em>know</em>.</p>
  <p>Couldn't wait anymore.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's miserable face, head bowed and shoulders slumped, and he had kept on looking at the door, over and over and over again, and somehow, Berwald felt something slipping away. Felt as if Ludwig were drifting.</p>
  <p>So he did then the only thing that he could really think to do. The only thing he wanted to do. The only thing that seemed to make sense in that moment. He did it then, what he had wanted to do for <em>years</em>; he stalked up from behind, reached out, grabbed Magnus by the collar, yanked him around, pulled back his fist, and punched Magnus as hard as he could in the face.</p>
  <p>The pain in his knuckles was worth every bit of it.</p>
  <p>Silence.</p>
  <p>The whole room fell silent, everything went still, even Magnus went quiet, as blood started trickling down his nose. Didn't seem able to speak, and just stood stark still and stared at Berwald as if he were just as confused as everyone else. As if he didn't even understand what he had done wrong.</p>
  <p>Ludwig, slumped, defeated Ludwig, just stood there, and didn't utter a word. Magnus looked so stunned.</p>
  <p>Berwald, hardly moved, raised his left hand, tangled it up beside the other, and started pushing Magnus backwards until he had hit the wall, and he was so <em>angry</em>, so angry, that if anyone had tried to come in between them then he would have punched them, too, Ludwig included.</p>
  <p>A slam against the wall, and Berwald leaned in, and asked, in more of a snarl, "What did you do?"</p>
  <p>Even though Ludwig was still in the room, he was too mad to even form words in German anymore, so if Magnus and him ever did get into it, then Ludwig wouldn't exactly have been privy to the conversation, anyway.</p>
  <p>Magnus just stared at him, mouth open and eyes wide.</p>
  <p>Lukas and Timo had stood up by then, but hung off to the side without opening their mouths, knowing better in that instant than to try and intervene. A little bit of sense, for once, because Berwald would have had no problem tearing them apart to keep his hold on Magnus. Would have torn the world apart, for that matter, to get to Magnus.</p>
  <p>Hated this man.</p>
  <p>Berwald shook him, slammed him again, at Magnus' silence, and repeated, "What did you <em>do</em>? Huh? Tell me! What did you do?"</p>
  <p>Had to know. Had to. Had to know if Magnus had just done something stupid or if Magnus was tryin' to take something that belonged to him.</p>
  <p>...that <em>had</em> belonged to him, anyway.</p>
  <p>Hurt.</p>
  <p>Magnus didn't answer him, didn't say a word, and instead just sent a quick, miserable glance over at Ludwig, who had slumped where he stood and was staring at the floor, a very obvious look of distress on his face.</p>
  <p>That look at Ludwig only made him fuckin' angrier, and he shook Magnus again, trying to get him to talk. Just tell him. If Magnus and Ludwig were...</p>
  <p>Oh, couldn't finish that sentence, but if they were, then he needed to know, and he needed to know <em>now</em>, and Timo deserved that, too.</p>
  <p>"What did you do? For god's sake, ya gotta fuckin' tell me what ya <em>did</em>!"</p>
  <p>Everyone was so quiet. Not a sound from any of them.</p>
  <p>And then, suddenly, in the middle of that awful silence, Ludwig turned away, and walked slowly out of the door without a word.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't follow him; didn't even think to. Just wanted an answer from Magnus now. Ludwig had only gone outside to avoid this strange, possibly mortifying confrontation. Ludwig didn't need to understand the language to know what was happening.</p>
  <p>Berwald didn't follow him.</p>
  <p>Shoulda followed him.</p>
  <p>But Magnus seemed to come around a little now that Ludwig was out of the room, and his chin lifted up, his eyes narrowed, his old pompous, confident self was back, and when he looked at Berwald, there was no trace of shame when he opened his mouth and said, simply, "I told him the truth."</p>
  <p>The truth. What was the truth?</p>
  <p>Christ almighty, if Magnus had followed that up with, 'I told him that I'm love with him', oh, god. Woulda died. Woulda died, woulda shot Magnus first, and then he woulda died.</p>
  <p>"What did ya <em>tell</em> him? Huh? What did ya <em>say</em>?"</p>
  <p>He was going crazy.</p>
  <p>Magnus finally reached up then, rather fiercely untangling Berwald's fingers from his collar, and spat, furiously, "I told him the fuckin' truth, alright! I told him. None of you guys were gonna tell him!" A smoldering glance at Timo, and then Lukas, and Magnus seemed suddenly so angry at <em>Berwald</em>, of all people, even though Berwald was the one who had been wronged, and added, "You! He was in love with <em>you,</em> with <em>you</em>, of all people, somehow! And nobody was gonna tell him anything, so <em>I</em> had to do it. Yeah, I told him. I told him that <em>you</em>"— a sudden, brash shove of Berwald's chest— "you still fuckin' love Timo, don't'cha! So yeah, I told him! I hated doin' it, too, makin' him feel like that, but someone oughta look out for him! Someone oughta <em>care</em> about him!"</p>
  <p>Another awful silence, and Berwald was so stunned, so surprised, so shocked that he couldn't even open his mouth to say anything. Couldn't talk anymore.</p>
  <p>A short glance over at Timo, whose mouth was hanging open and who looked, beyond anything else, <em>horrified</em>. As if he couldn't even believe what he had just heard. Berwald couldn't, either.</p>
  <p>The anger dulled down into a steady, rising dread. Embarrassment. Mortification.</p>
  <p><em>Oh</em>, couldn't <em>ever</em> remember being so humiliated, and the only thing he could do then was turn his eyes to wall behind Magnus and feel the horrible rush of warmth rising up his neck and onto his face as he put a palm over his mouth in an effort to save face.</p>
  <p>Those words.</p>
  <p>Felt sick. His heart was hammering then from embarrassment, and the anger extinguished under the crushing weight of the disgrace. No wonder Ludwig had been avoiding him like that, had looked so fuckin' dejected, <em>anyone</em> would have, hearing something like that, anyone would have been devastated, anyone would have felt absolutely humiliated.</p>
  <p><em>He</em> did.</p>
  <p>Oh. God.</p>
  <p>Even beyond the deathly horror, beyond his burning face, Berwald was struck with a thought :</p>
  <p>All that time, so long, worrying about Magnus stealing Ludwig, and the whole while Magnus had been terrified of Berwald stealing Timo. Once upon a time, maybe he had tried damn hard, but...</p>
  <p>Oh, wait, that wasn't <em>right</em>. Hadn't thought about Timo like that in years. Not since Ludwig had come around. Even if Ludwig were to suddenly leave right then and there, Berwald was quite certain he wouldn't ever be able to muster that kind of affection for Timo ever again.</p>
  <p>Thinking about it.</p>
  <p>In a way, looking back on it all, all of his hate and anger towards Magnus seemed so misplaced; in fact, Magnus had every right, every right, to hate Berwald, if he were honest. Because, at one point in time, Berwald really had tried to take Timo from Magnus, he really had, but Magnus hadn't ever tried to take Ludwig.</p>
  <p>That made him the worst one, didn't it?</p>
  <p>Timo sputtered something incomprehensible, his face suddenly blazing as much as Berwald's was, and then he went over, sat himself down on the couch, crossed his arms, and looked suddenly furious.</p>
  <p>Berwald couldn't even seem to look Magnus in the eye anymore, as Magnus stood there in righteous indignation, bristling and puffing and still quite angry.</p>
  <p>Shame. He was pretty sure he was one more shade away from bursting into flames.</p>
  <p>Lukas looked around at them then, hands loose at his sides as he listened to this godawful conversation, and he finally said, in a soft voice that didn't match his stern eyes, "I think this is a bad time to fall in love."</p>
  <p>And he was right. Always had been.</p>
  <p>The rather condescending tone of Lukas' voice was what made Berwald and Magnus avert their stances from each other, each feeling more than a bit foolish, perhaps. The way Lukas might have been irritated with all of this out of place emotion in the middle of a war, and had every right to be. This wasn't the time or the place for any of this.</p>
  <p>It was so easy for Lukas to stay focused. Calm as he was. Lukas watched girls, sure he did, but he never got close to one, and wouldn't, not until the job was done. Timo loved Magnus, but still somehow put Finland before anything else.</p>
  <p>He and Magnus weren't so professional. Not so calm. It was harder for them to keep emotions in check. The way they were. Magnus and Berwald had never been cut out for war, perhaps.</p>
  <p>When it came down to it, when all of the cards were put on the table, maybe Ludwig hadn't been, either. Not as young and brash as he was. Had the skills, absolutely, but needed a few more years to get his head screwed on straight.</p>
  <p>If Berwald had any right to criticize him, as it was.</p>
  <p>Magnus, maybe defensive, got in one last shot at Timo and Lukas. Didn't look at Berwald, though.</p>
  <p>"Well, Christ!" he finally cried. "It had already happened, hadn't it? It was too late! Someone had to tell him! Someone had to do it! You two were fine just sittin' here and makin' him think that everything was alright! Neither of you were gonna tell him! Neither one of you! So yeah I told him! Someone should've! Someone should look out for him. It woulda made things worse, wouldn't it, to just let him go on like that! I can't even believe you two weren't gonna <em>say</em> something!"</p>
  <p>Lukas looked hardly moved by anything Magnus said, standing as still as ever and face quite blank. Timo had suddenly found the floor extremely offensive.</p>
  <p>And with that, Magnus sent both of them a scorching look, and then threw himself down onto the couch, as far from Timo as he could, crossing his arms and glaring out at the wall.</p>
  <p>Humiliation kept Berwald standing long after his legs had gotten wobbly.</p>
  <p>Lukas spoke up then again, maybe feeling a little more awkward than he looked, and said, "I'll go get him."</p>
  <p>Him. Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Probably just wanted to get away from this mortifying conversation.</p>
  <p>When the door slammed shut, in a rare moment of anger from cool Lukas, Magnus heaved a sigh, and held his head in his hands.</p>
  <p>Berwald looked around, and felt so <em>stupid</em>. So stupid.</p>
  <p>Timo was staring so hard at the floor that Berwald was sure it was starting to smoke. Looked furious. Hadn't seen Timo that mad since he had left Estonia. Almost afraid to even look at him; a wrong glance then might have sent Timo over the edge, and who could ever say what an enraged Timo would do.</p>
  <p>Berwald found himself collapsing into a chair soon after, feeling rather dizzy. So embarrassed.</p>
  <p>Finally, Berwald found his voice long enough to hiss to Magnus, "You shoulda talked to <em>me</em> first. You shoulda talked to me."</p>
  <p>Magnus looked suddenly helpless. Hurt and frustrated, as if he couldn't understand why no one was taking his side. Why no one was defending him.</p>
  <p>It irritated Berwald more than anything that he couldn't even be fuckin' <em>mad </em>at Magnus, not truly, because it was easy enough to see that Magnus had really thought he was doing the right thing. That Magnus really thought he had been looking out for Ludwig, who he saw as a brother. That Magnus had just wanted to spare Ludwig any undue duress. That Magnus had just wanted to <em>help</em>.</p>
  <p>Couldn't even be angry with him, and that was bad enough, but that meant he could only be angry with himself, and that was worse. It had always felt so much better to blame everything on Magnus. Couldn't, not this time.</p>
  <p>His fault.</p>
  <p>A long silence, as Magnus kept lifting and lowering his head as he tried to think of something to say. Timo kept on trying to assassinate the floor with his eyes, fists clenched in his lap. Didn't speak. Might not have been able, as embarrassed as he no doubt was.</p>
  <p>Finally, a whisper broke the silence, so low and gentle and weak that it took Berwald a long time to realize that it had come from Magnus' mouth.</p>
  <p>Hadn't heard that voice, before.</p>
  <p>"You don't know what it feels like. Not <em>knowin</em>' like that. When I first got with you guys, I— I <em>hated</em> it, because I sat there and watched you two, and... Sittin' there alone and wondering if you two were <em>something</em>, you know, and I <em>wish </em>that I'd had someone who could have told me. I wish I'd'a known sooner. " A quick, miserable glance at Timo, who was still pretending Magnus didn't exist. "I'd've said something to you sooner, if I'd known. I wouldn't have waited so long. Those were the worst damn days of my life, I swear, thinkin' you two were together. You don't know what that feels like. It's not fair. Why shouldn't he have known? You don't know how it feels. How could I let him go through all that, when I knew the whole time that it wouldn't do any good? I couldn't let him... I just didn't ever want him to feel that way."</p>
  <p>Berwald hung head head down, clenching his hair in his fingers, and felt such misery that he was surprised he was still alive. Felt so stupid. So awful. So humiliated. Wished he could have just sank under the damn house and died.</p>
  <p>Such a mess they had created.</p>
  <p>They? No, not really, not <em>they</em>.</p>
  <p>He.</p>
  <p>His mess. His fault.</p>
  <p>He should have set Magnus straight that day, instead of being stubborn and proud. Wanting to hurt Magnus had backfired. His fault, more than Magnus'. Should have said something. Should have taken Magnus aside that night, right off, and said, 'I'm not interested.' Should have tried to say, 'I'm happy for you, because I know how you feel.'</p>
  <p>That was all he had had to do to avoid this entire situation.</p>
  <p>Simple. So simple.</p>
  <p>So, for the first time, Berwald sucked in a great breath, raised his head, looked at Magnus, and said, "I haven't thought about him like that in years. I haven't. I was... I wasn't ever gonna try to take him from you. I just wanted..." He trailed off, feeling so defeated and so stupid, and he couldn't even meet Magnus' eyes anymore when he ducked his head down and muttered, thickly, "I just wanted Ludwig."</p>
  <p>Timo was still so silent.</p>
  <p>Somehow, what hurt the worst was what he had to say next. <em>Had </em>to say it, even if it killed his pride.</p>
  <p>Had to look back up at Magnus one final time, and say, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I just... I was so mad, so I didn't tell ya. I should have told ya. Sorry."</p>
  <p>Sorry.</p>
  <p>Hated saying that word, and hated worst of all having to say it to that man.</p>
  <p>Finally said it, though, but after it was far too late. If he had said it earlier, then none of this would have happened. If he had bitten down his pride the first time, all of them would have been so much more content.</p>
  <p>It was gonna take <em>so</em> long to get Ludwig to trust him again, so long to get him back. He was gonna haveta do this fight all over again to get things back the way they had been with Ludwig. To get that man back.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had to understand, had to know that it had all been a misunderstanding, because Berwald and Magnus had been stupid and proud. That was all. God, he had to understand that. Had to.</p>
  <p>His fuckin' pride and bitterness had cost him more than he had ever wanted to bet.</p>
  <p>Suddenly, Magnus muttered, wearily, "I'm sorry, too."</p>
  <p>They sat there, each of them feeling stupid in their own way, for what felt like hours.</p>
  <p>Finally, when the morning sun had long since gone up into the sky in late afternoon, Lukas came back. Berwald looked up, pulse hammering, and was fully prepared to throw himself down at Ludwig's feet and beg.</p>
  <p>Didn't get to.</p>
  <p>Lukas came back. Ludwig wasn't with him.</p>
  <p>What Lukas said then, in his matter-of-fact voice, sent Berwald's heart down into his feet.</p>
  <p>A simple, short sentence.</p>
  <p>"Ludwig's gone."</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Stupid.</p>
  <p>He didn't belong anywhere. Never really had, he supposed. Wherever he went, he was alone. Always wound up alone and apart from the world. Everyone he met seemed to end up on some other side after a while.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig had walked through the door, then, he had known right off he wasn't going to go back through it.</p>
  <p>Not ever again.</p>
  <p>Left all of his stuff behind, because he couldn't have stayed there a minute longer even if he had tried. Couldn't keep lookin' at Berwald, just couldn't. Couldn't face Timo. Couldn't stand seeing Magnus and Berwald fighting, because of a shared interest in Timo. Couldn't stand the feel of Berwald's hands, knowin' that those hands were pretending he was someone else.</p>
  <p>Felt so stupid.</p>
  <p>Magnus tried, he really did, but that wasn't enough.</p>
  <p>Loving Magnus wasn't enough to make up for the fact that he couldn't bring himself to raise his eyes up to Berwald or Timo. Magnus' words of comfort weren't enough to get rid of the sting of dejection. Magnus' gestures weren't enough to erase the hurt of betrayal. Magnus wasn't enough to overshadow the notion of Berwald.</p>
  <p>Magnus' constant words of encouragement weren't enough.</p>
  <p>Magnus tried hard to get him to look forward to the future, to the opportunities beyond the war, but a future without Berwald didn't really seem like one Ludwig could even look forward to at all. Just wanted Berwald, but couldn't have him.</p>
  <p>Couldn't stay.</p>
  <p>...betrayal? Nah, not really. Berwald hadn't ever lied to him. Ludwig had just fooled himself. Not once, not once, had Berwald ever turned to him and said, 'I love you,' so he hadn't lied. Not Timo's fault. Not Magnus' fault.</p>
  <p>And not really Berwald's fault, either.</p>
  <p>Who could ever help who they fell in love with? It wasn't Berwald's fault that he had fallen in love with Timo, and Ludwig could say that he had truly meant it when he had told Berwald that he hadn't done anything wrong, because he hadn't.</p>
  <p>And thinking about all of <em>that</em> was worse, so Ludwig left them behind.</p>
  <p>Had to.</p>
  <p>His pride, always getting him into trouble, wouldn't allow him to stay in a place where he had been made a fool of. His pride wouldn't let him stand there and see Berwald looking at someone else. His pride wouldn't let him pine over a man who was pining over another. His pride wouldn't let him be second to anyone or anything.</p>
  <p>Pride.</p>
  <p>His pride had already tried to kill him a few times, and surely this was just another attempt.</p>
  <p>Felt so lethargic, walking down the path and into the town.</p>
  <p>Some part of him had wanted to go running back up, but that just wasn't an option. Didn't want to part ways. Didn't want to leave those men behind. Didn't want to leave Lukas' eyes, Magnus' smile, Timo's personality, Berwald's comfort. Things he had grown to expect and rely on and love. Those men had been the only friends he had ever had. <em>Missed</em> them the very second his feet hit that path, but he had to do it.</p>
  <p>Would've gone crazy if he had stayed.</p>
  <p>The town, so small and quaint, seemed huge when Ludwig was suddenly wandering through it.</p>
  <p>Felt daunting, trying to figure out where to start.</p>
  <p>Easy enough to get a car from one of Timo's guys, once he had actually found one. They knew him. They trusted him, maybe, just a little. Felt so stupid, though, walking through that town and hoping that someone would show up that he recognized.</p>
  <p>Didn't belong in this town. Never had.</p>
  <p>Eventually, when he had come across a man he knew, he had tried his best to communicate with him. The Finn seemed happy enough to see him, they always were now that he wasn't shooting at them in anger anymore. Felt shitty about that, too, because those men had counted on him. Couldn't help 'em anymore, though. Had to get out of here. They still had Timo, and surely that was enough.</p>
  <p>Gestures and looks, minutes of fumbling on Ludwig's part, and somehow, someway, the Finn had understood that Ludwig needed a ride. The Finn had perked up, for whatever reason, and motioned a hand in the air to follow. Ludwig did, feeling all the while as if the world were drifting away with every step he took.</p>
  <p>When the Finn led him to a spare car, Ludwig felt a rather alarming sense of finality. Distress.</p>
  <p>Didn't wanna go.</p>
  <p>He must have looked a little lost, a little <em>sad</em>, because, after placing the keys in the palm of Ludwig's hand, the Finn removed his coat, and put it on Ludwig's shoulders with low words. Hadn't even felt the cold. Just felt dazed.</p>
  <p>Didn't wanna go.</p>
  <p>Still, though, he somehow uttered thanks, put the coat on, and went over to the car. Out of it. Distant. He took them without thought, both the car and the coat, and didn't even bother to look them over.</p>
  <p>Skis and coats in the backseat. A rifle in the passenger floorboard. The smell of gunpowder and chalk. In the coat, there was a jar of the pigment they used. This car had been about ready to go out for a day, but hadn't yet been settled. Once they were ready, they would have put all of those things in the hidden compartment in the back.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't care, and left it all there in sight.</p>
  <p>Didn't matter.</p>
  <p>Anyway, what would he have done with them? Couldn't very well have turned to that guy and said, 'Yeah, here, have all your stuff, because, oh by the way, I'm actually stealing this car from you. So. You know. Have a great day.'</p>
  <p>Didn't feel like bothering.</p>
  <p>The Finn wandered off after a while, and Ludwig was grateful so that he wouldn't have seen the next few moments of utter helplessness, as Ludwig crept inside the vehicle and stared in utter confusion at the gears.</p>
  <p>For a while, sitting in the driver's seat, Ludwig felt more than a bit of trepidation.</p>
  <p>Didn't know how to drive much, and to be quite frank, he had gotten used to others showing him how to do things. Sitting here now, helpless, knowing that no one was going to come up and take his hand was a little disheartening. Knowing that no one was coming to guide him.</p>
  <p>Well. Couldn't be that hard, now, could it? Just a car. People learned to drive all the time. If they could do it, so could he. Time to grow up and start his life on his own.</p>
  <p>It took him a few minutes to gather the courage to crank the car up, and a few more minutes of testing pedals and gears before he finally managed to get the car out of park. Turned the wheel too sharply at first, hit the gas a little too hard, but he backed up and into the street without running anything over, so all things considered it was off to a fairly good start. And after a little while, after feeling up the pedals, it wasn't really so hard. Only one road.</p>
  <p>Just a car.</p>
  <p>Felt like something far more significant, though, when he looked up minutes later and saw that little town lagging behind him. Getting farther and farther away.</p>
  <p><em>Oh</em>. All he had wanted was Berwald. Felt as if the world were ending.</p>
  <p>Minutes later, a bend in the road, and suddenly the town was completely out of sight. A suffocating sense of isolation and melancholy. Loneliness. Hadn't even been alone for half an hour and already felt as if he'd been lost in the woods for days again. More than anything, he felt displaced. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to stay. Hadn't made it in Germany. Hadn't made it in Sweden. Not in Estonia. Not here in Finland.</p>
  <p>Nowhere was home.</p>
  <p>Where did he go now? Felt like he'd tried everything, everywhere, and still couldn't settle.</p>
  <p>No one waiting for him. No one he knew. No one who gave a damn about him. The only man that had ever really, truly loved him was bringing flowers to his headstone when on leave and remembering him fondly.</p>
  <p>Well, guess that was one of the great things about being dead; it was always easy just to start over, somewhere else. Hell, if he had really wanted to, he could have even changed his name. Could have changed his nationality. Could have found somebody shady to make him some new papers. Make a new identity. May as well; Ludwig was a stupid kid with no luck, no friends, and no sense of person anyway, so maybe it would be better to let him go and try again. Maybe a new name would have brought him better things. More confidence in himself.</p>
  <p>A way to feel good about himself, for once.</p>
  <p>The only thing he had ever done to make Gilbert proud had been dyin', and no doubt Gilbert, once he had stopped bawling, had been keen to tell everyone and everything about his brave little brother, dying for country and honor. Funny; Ludwig had spent his entire life trying to make Gilbert proud, and had surely finally done it. Just not in the way he had wanted.</p>
  <p>Being dead was as close as he would ever come to being a hero in Gilbert's eyes, to being worthy.</p>
  <p>Felt as if being alive just made him another nobody.</p>
  <p>If he got some new papers, maybe he could manage to make it down to Switzerland, and try to figure himself out. Find a way to make himself proud. Find a way to accept himself and settle with what he had. Switzerland seemed appealing. Woulda stayed there, if he were able to make it there at all. Worth a shot, he guessed.</p>
  <p>Couldn't stay in Sweden.</p>
  <p>Felt too stupid and embarrassed to try that again. Good god almighty, the thought of ever accidentally running into <em>them</em> again was horrifying. The thought of bumping into Berwald on the damn street at random. Woulda <em>died</em>.</p>
  <p>The best bet now was to just drive around and see if he could find a Finn somewhere that was good at forgery. Bet Timo had known a couple. Shoulda asked, before he set off. Stupid as ever.</p>
  <p>So he just drove, without thinking, to see where the road took him. Had to go somewhere, didn't it? Somewhere along the way he had to run into something or someone. Anyone who could help him out. No roads just went on forever without another human in sight.</p>
  <p>Ah, hell. At this rate, he may as well have just driven right into the Soviet Union, because he'd been fightin' the Reds for so long that he felt like he understood them a little. He just wanted to go somewhere and feel like he fit in. Wanted to feel like he belonged. Wanted to be able to stand somewhere, look around, and say, 'I'm home.'</p>
  <p>His mind wandered as the road went by in a blur. Trees, as far as the eye could see. He didn't go very fast, afraid of losing control of the vehicle as he settled into the sensation of driving, but damn! Did it ever feel like he was going as fast as a bullet. Knowing that behind him, someone might have been looking for him.</p>
  <p>Would Berwald really care that he had gone? Perhaps, in a way, but as long as Timo was there then Berwald wouldn't really be hurt. He could be satisfied with that; <em>he</em> was hurt, yeah, but couldn't say he really wanted Berwald to be. Hated seeing Berwald upset, even now. Even after it all. Just wanted Berwald to be happy, and if Timo was there, then he would be.</p>
  <p>Fields of snow all around. The roads were slick.</p>
  <p>Berwald was a good guy; deserved to be happy. Maybe one day he would be, and perhaps Ludwig could be, too, in some new place. Wouldn't ever be able to forget the feel of Berwald's hands, though, no matter how hard he tried.</p>
  <p>Must have been driving for a good hour or so before he finally saw something, around a curve in the road.</p>
  <p>Found someone, alright. Just not the someone he wanted.</p>
  <p>And even before he could think to slam on the brakes, before his brain had really <em>comprehended</em>, he had seen the tank in the road. His foot lifted off the gas in a burst of panic.</p>
  <p>Red star. A Soviet tank.</p>
  <p>A checkpoint.</p>
  <p>Eyes wide in horror and gripping the steering wheel as though his life depended upon it, he couldn't even find his voice just to shriek, '<em>Shit</em>!'</p>
  <p>A dull, lurching dread. Beyond anything, beyond that horror, he felt a little delirious. As if he were drunk somehow. Must have been the adrenaline mixing with the terror. His hands had started shaking, so hard that he almost couldn't grip the wheel anymore.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>Two soldiers stood in front of the tank, their car off to the left of it, automatic rifles in hands and fur hats gleaming in the white winter sun. They were waving at him to slow from a distance, already walking forward a bit.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>Panic. Sheer, unadulterated panic. The tremor passed from his hands into his entire body.</p>
  <p>Oh, yeah, he was fuckin' <em>stupid </em>alright, letting his emotions and his sharp moods get the better of him, overreacting to something that could have been handled with so much more grace, and now he had gotten himself into a dangerous situation. Coulda stayed where he was safe, if miserable, and wouldn't have been in this position right now. Coulda been <em>miserable</em>, looking at Berwald, but at least he would be <em>alive</em>.</p>
  <p>Fuckin' skis were in the backseat. Guns in the floorboard. White coat. May as well have been wearing a sign around his neck that read 'Finnish Rebel'. Christ.</p>
  <p>He was <em>dead</em>.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>As the car kept on slowing, but not stopping, his mind started whirring away as panic took over. Trying to think of ways to get around, to get away. How to get away. Couldn't back up; they'd start shooting at him. Couldn't run 'em over; couldn't get enough traction in the ice, and if he got one, then the other would shoot him. Couldn't get through the tank; maybe, though, maybe he could have gotten around it.</p>
  <p>A long look around.</p>
  <p>Snow all over. The field beyond the road had a ditch in it, full of snow and ice. A bit deep. Steep. Might not have been able to get through that quick enough to avoid a gunshot. Beyond the ditch, a slope slightly downwards, into a forest.</p>
  <p>Might have been able to pull it off. Probably not, but maybe. Had to try it, though, because the second those soldiers looked inside the car, they would shoot him on spot. Wouldn't even have the chance to try anything at all if they got close enough.</p>
  <p>Had to try.</p>
  <p>Timo would have been ashamed of him, if he hadn't at least given it a go. Gilbert could have done it; so could he.</p>
  <p>Feeling desperate and terrified, he let off the gas and let the car lurch slowly over the snow, and when the soldiers came ever forward, thinking that he was coming to a halt, Ludwig hesitated, as if time had stopped.</p>
  <p>Why hadn't he put all of that shit up before he left? Woulda taken two damn minutes. That was all. Just two minutes. Just two fuckin' minutes, to spare himself this ordeal.</p>
  <p>Two minutes.</p>
  <p>They lowered their rifles. The car fell still of its own volition, rather than him pressing down on the breaks. Voices, low and muffled through the glass, as one soldier hung back and the other crept ever closer. He fell still, breath puffing out in the freezing air and hands trembling, and when the soldier was close enough that Ludwig could see the red of his cheeks for the cold, he gripped the wheel as tight as he could, and took a great breath.</p>
  <p>Gathering the courage.</p>
  <p>The soldier held up his hand in the universal signal for 'halt' as he came close enough to see Ludwig through the foggy glass.</p>
  <p>An eerie stillness.</p>
  <p>Ludwig could see, then, in that still second; the widening of the soldier's eyes, the sudden tensing of his shoulders, the way his mouth opened as he might have uttered an oath, the way his gloved hands suddenly clenched his rifle.</p>
  <p>The soldier had seen all he needed to, and it was time to go.</p>
  <p>An inhale, as he found his nerve.</p>
  <p>And then Ludwig jammed his foot as hard as he could onto the gas, jerking the wheel to the right and skidding through the snow, the grinding and shrieking of the tires mingled with the screams of alarm from the soldiers. Had to get around that tank, had to, no matter what, couldn't get anywhere if he couldn't get around that tank—</p>
  <p>The tires lost traction in the ice at the sudden acceleration, at his own inexperience with operating a vehicle.</p>
  <p>No brakes.</p>
  <p>Didn't know what to do—he jerked the wheel, out of instinct, and the next thing he saw were the trees in front of him. When the car hit the tree head-on, everything went black.</p>
  <p>Pounding in his ears. Whooshing.</p>
  <p>Dots of bright, sharp light.</p>
  <p>And then the taste of iron, the ache in his head, pain in his face, and when his blurry vision started clearing up, there was broken glass in his hair and blood pouring from his nose.</p>
  <p>Couldn't move at first, for those first few horrible seconds, and then the survival instinct kicked in hard enough to clear out the shock of impact. A search, a fumble, and somehow he found the door handle. Wasn't jammed, somehow, and when he pushed it open, he only managed a graceless topple face-first right into the snow.</p>
  <p>Pain.</p>
  <p>Get into the woods. Had to get into the woods. Into the trees.</p>
  <p>A shout.</p>
  <p>He didn't even have time to reach up for the rifle in the seat, didn't have time to stand at all before the soldier was upon him, screeching at him and no doubt ordering him up to his feet. The barrel pointed at his chest, Ludwig could only stare up at the soldier, dumbly, and lay there. Dazed as he was.</p>
  <p>Easy, though, to understand what the soldier was thinking as he lifted and lowered the rifle, trying to tell Ludwig to get up.</p>
  <p>Skis. A rifle. White coats and chalk. Gunpowder. The Soviet thought he was a Finn, as anyone would have. And the language barrier wasn't helping. Ha! Stupid. Even if the Soviet did discover he wasn't a Finn, then so what? He was a German, and therefore even more of a reason to be shot. Couldn't win either way on that. Couldn't come out on top.</p>
  <p>So he kept his mouth shut, and somehow got himself upright again, with the use of the mangled car. Took him a long time to find his balance. When a sense of equilibrium came back, he held his arms in the air and his chin up high. Too far gone now to feel terror. Felt something more like defiance. Stubbornness, despite it all.</p>
  <p>The soldier may have had one over on him, but Ludwig still kept himself up proudly.</p>
  <p>Oh, god! He would stay <em>dignified</em>, even in the face of death. Wouldn't fall like that, pleading and begging. If he was going now, then he would go in grace. He would live up to Berwald's standards, to Timo's standards, to Gilbert's standards. Even if he hadn't met them in any other regards.</p>
  <p>Blood trickled down from his nose into the snow. Swaying a bit, against the dizziness.</p>
  <p>Stupid.</p>
  <p>Timo would have shot the soldiers from the car as they had asked for identification. Wouldn't have given them a chance to hunt him down like this. Timo would have already been on his way by now.</p>
  <p>Couldn't live up to Gilbert. Couldn't live up to Timo, either.</p>
  <p>Pale eyes met his own. Breath visible in the air.</p>
  <p>The soldier uttered something in Russian, his voice low and soft and almost gentle, as though he were attempting to keep the situation calm despite it all. For what? Felt like he was dragging it out.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wasn't armed, and yet the soldier was acting as if he was. Not a surprise; he woulda done the same, had the situations been reversed. Actually, all things considered, this soldier was being far more merciful than he would have been. Had it been the other way around, Ludwig would have shot the Red as he had still been crawling out of the car.</p>
  <p>Maybe that was a good sign.</p>
  <p>Hardly. Yeah, right. That was a stupid thought, too.</p>
  <p>Crashed his damn car into a tree to get away from those guys. They weren't gonna just turn their heads on that. Not on those guns. Not on those coats. Not on him, either, not on him trying to run, not on him having those things in the car.</p>
  <p>May as well have started trying to scribble down his last will and testament. Not that he had anything to give, or anyone to give it to.</p>
  <p>...oh, wished he could have managed to see Gilbert, though, one more time. Gilbert had been the only person on this earth that had ever loved him. Well, at least there was the comfort of knowing Gilbert couldn't be hurt by this. At least he had already died once, so he didn't much have to worry about Gilbert's side of things. As far as Gilbert knew, his little brother had been dead for years.</p>
  <p>The soldier came forward a pace, and started speaking in Russian.</p>
  <p>Didn't understand, so Ludwig could only stand still and keep his trembling hands as best he could in the air. Dizziness, creeping up.</p>
  <p>How strange.</p>
  <p>Strange to be standing face to face with a Red after so long. Usually only saw these guys through the scope of the rifle. Felt a little different, standing right in front of one. Seeing another man, really, rather than another soldier. Things he had always been able to not think about, when they were far away, were harder to ignore up close. The color of his eyes, the shade of his hair, the shape of his nose.</p>
  <p>Not really a Red.</p>
  <p>Just a man, who couldn't help what his country was anymore than Ludwig could. Strange.</p>
  <p>A look of regret. For a second there, for a long, miserable second, that Russian soldier looked as tired and mournful as Ludwig felt. Like he was tired of everything as well. As if the Red were thinking, too, 'Just a man.' Not a Finn, not a rebel, but just a man. Tired of holding his rifle on other men. Tired of killing. Hard to see the point of war when everything was one on one like this. Hard to find a good reason to shoot someone when you really got a good look at them.</p>
  <p>In the end, though, war was war, soldiers were soldiers, and the Red started aiming his rifle.</p>
  <p>All Ludwig could really do was look around, helplessly, and wish that someone woulda come and saved him. Used to Timo and Berwald always being nearby. Used to Lukas watching his back. Used to Magnus keeping an eye on him.</p>
  <p>Alone, now. No one was here.</p>
  <p>A sudden soft, beseeching whisper.</p>
  <p>"<em>Proshu proscheniya</em>."</p>
  <p>Ludwig opened his mouth, and meant to say, 'Hey! What's that mean?' Anything to keep the soldier occupied, to prolong the inevitable, to keep that gun still. To survive, if only for a little longer.</p>
  <p>Didn't get his chance, though.</p>
  <p>As soon as his voice started to come out, the sound of the discharge was ear-shattering in the quiet forest.</p>
  <p>Shock.</p>
  <p>He tumbled, from panic and surprise more than anything else, heart hammering and feeling more terrified than he ever had. The sound of the gun going off seemed to have brought up the panic he had been stifling.</p>
  <p>A miss.</p>
  <p>Stumbling backwards. Snow.</p>
  <p>Stunned and still, he could only lay there in the powder and wait for the soldier to come up to him, to stand above him, and to shoot him. The wind was knocked out of him, from the sheer panic, and he finally heard footsteps. He squinted his eyes shut in the white sunlight, and waited, fists clenched and legs braced.</p>
  <p>Waiting.</p>
  <p>Longest fuckin' wait of his life.</p>
  <p>Absolutely numbing, terrifying, laying there in utter vulnerability and waiting to be shot. Hadn't ever felt so powerless.</p>
  <p>Felt like hours that he waited there, face scrunched and trembling, but no shadow ever appeared above him.</p>
  <p>No second shot.</p>
  <p>He waited for what felt like eternity, and then, finally, he heard the crunching of snow and the rustle of clothes getting farther away, and he knew that the soldier had retreated, leaving him alone.</p>
  <p>Oh, <em>god</em>—</p>
  <p>Had he been spared?</p>
  <p>That sad, exhausted look on the soldier's face. That misery. That sense of melancholy.</p>
  <p>It seemed so.</p>
  <p>Ludwig stayed there, quietly, as he was expected to, waiting for the soldier to disappear, and finally found his wind again as air came back. Hard to breathe, still, for the adrenaline pumping through him. His chest hurt.</p>
  <p>A second chance. A fuckin' second chance. He had been given a second chance. Couldn't even believe it. He'd use it. Oh, would he ever. Couldn't believe it.</p>
  <p>No more footsteps. Silence and stillness. The soldier was gone. Above, the whirring of the cars and tank, and the soldiers went on down the road, no doubt finding a spot for another checkpoint, having had enough excitement in that particular area.</p>
  <p>Safe.</p>
  <p>Safe. An unbelievable word. How many guys looked down the barrel of a Red rifle and were able to tell about it? Didn't even know what to think. What to feel. Should he have tried to memorize that soldier, so that, if ever he came across him again, one way or another, Ludwig would know to spare him? Should he have just avoided Reds altogether? Woulda felt too strange, too terrible, killing any of them after this. After one of them had spared him.</p>
  <p>He sighed, then, hands twitching a bit from the adrenaline, and hadn't ever been so grateful. Stupid as he was, and yet somehow comin' out of it. When the danger was good and gone, when he found his courage again, he dug his fingers into the cold mud, and pushed himself up.</p>
  <p>Something stung in chest. From where he'd fallen, no doubt.</p>
  <p>He sat up, successfully, and not a second had passed before he realized that the fuckin' bullet had hit him right in the chest. Blood was running down the front of his coat in a torrent that seemed to gush forth every time he took a breath.</p>
  <p>Not spared, after all.</p>
  <p>A high-pitched, terrified whimper of panic that he didn't even realize could come out of his own mouth.</p>
  <p>Hadn't even felt it. Hadn't felt it. Being shot should have hurt more. Shouldn't it? He should have felt something. Should have hurt. That look of pain on Lukas' face when he had been shot; shoulda been able to feel it. Hadn't felt it.</p>
  <p>Yet there it was all the same, whether it had hurt or not.</p>
  <p>Panic set in.</p>
  <p>Shaking hands flew up and ripped the coat open, and when he dug deep enough, he felt the wound. More towards the right than the center. Right above the breast. So much blood—</p>
  <p>He reached the other hand around to his back.</p>
  <p>Nothing.</p>
  <p>Fuckin' thing was still inside, and this time there was no Lukas around to make good on his promise to dig it out, if that would have done any good.</p>
  <p>Stranded. Helpless. Alone in the middle of nowhere, covered in blood.</p>
  <p>He slipped out of the coat, yanked open his shirt, and tried to think of something to do. Anything. Trying to think, but not really able to for the millions of things running through his head. Too muddled and jumbled to grasp onto a single idea.</p>
  <p>The blood flowed faster, leaking over his fingers as he held them above the hole. Torrents of red. The snow turned dark beneath him.</p>
  <p>What to do. Time was a factor, but he couldn't seem to get his head or hands working.</p>
  <p>Somehow, his shaking hands managed to remove his shirt and try to awkwardly tie it over his chest as best he could for the odd angle, but couldn't really get it as tight as he needed. Felt rather useless, in fact, the more he thought about it.</p>
  <p>Lightheadedness. A faint blur on the edge of his vision.</p>
  <p>If the car still worked, somehow, if he could get it moving, then maybe...</p>
  <p>He tried to stand, and didn't get far before he was falling over.</p>
  <p>Face first in the snow, he tried to stand again, but found no energy to do so. Couldn't move, so the dumber part of him pressed his chest into the snow in another stupid effort, this time at using the snow to slow the blood-flow. Trying to use the cold to his advantage. For all the good it would do; hell, even if it did slow, even if it did stop, then so what? Would have still been in the middle of nowhere with a busted car. Couldn't have walked anywhere, not like this.</p>
  <p>The panic and desperation steadily dulled as time slowed down. Lethargy set in, and from there, despair. Never had he known such crushing despair.</p>
  <p>Stupid. Hurt. Alone.</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't here. Everyone was gone.</p>
  <p>Felt so tired, suddenly. Far away.</p>
  <p>Gilbert had always said that he'd rather die young, and Ludwig had agreed. Timo's words that day—'Who wants to get old, anyway?'</p>
  <p>Sure. Easier said than done. Took a little more bravery than most people had, and certainly more than he had. And then, dying young might have been one thing, but god...</p>
  <p>He had never wanted to die alone. Not alone. Who ever wanted to die alone?</p>
  <p>Berwald wasn't here.</p>
  <p>Alone.</p>
  <p>This was no blaze of glory, as Gilbert had always envisioned. No honor in this. Nothing worth remembering. In a way, he guessed, maybe that was fitting. He'd always been a rather forgettable person. No one would have ever given him a second thought. Not with so many bold, outgoing men in the world. Bleeding out in the middle of a desolate forest might have really been the most interesting death that someone like Ludwig could ask for.</p>
  <p>Alone.</p>
  <p>He'd left behind the only people that might have missed him. Left behind the only men that had ever really liked him. Left behind his only friends. Left behind Berwald.</p>
  <p>His thoughts became disjointed and confused as his ears started ringing. Everything kept getting darker. Cold-sweating, even in the snow. He collapsed down completely then, all effort leaving him, and did the only thing he really could do :</p>
  <p>Wait to die.</p>
  <p>Little else to do.</p>
  <p>Exhaustion.</p>
  <p>And still, despite it all...</p>
  <p>Wished he coulda seen Berwald one last time right before the dark.</p>
  <p>Couldn't really say why, couldn't ever have really explained it, but he sure had loved that son of a bitch. Guess he could look back on it now and say that it had been worth it, even if it hadn't been meant for him. Thinking he was loved, even if he hadn't been, not really, had been nice. If he had been less proud, he might have just gone on like that, pretending to be Timo, because feeling loved had been something close to heaven.</p>
  <p>That <em>feeling</em>. Nothing like it.</p>
  <p>The white went dark.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Just The Other Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 19</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Just The Other Side</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>The worst word he'd ever heard.</p>
  <p>The feel of it. The sound of it. The hopelessness of it.</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was gone.</p>
  <p>Couldn't be, couldn't. Ludwig had been there now for two years; couldn't be <em>gone</em>. Not gone. Ludwig was a <em>part</em> of this group. Ludwig had settled them in. Settled Berwald in. Ludwig had made Berwald feel like carrying on. Couldn't be gone. Some mistake. Lukas had made some kind of mistake. Hadn't looked around well enough. Hadn't checked every corner. Lukas had just missed him, was all, and was jumping to conclusions.</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>Berwald sat there for what felt like hours, looking up at calm Lukas standing in the doorframe, and couldn't really seem to wake up. Stuck, in some horrible dream. This whole thing felt so insane, so ridiculous. Lukas was just mistaken, and so Berwald stared up at him, dumbly, and didn't move. Timo was just as still. In fact, it was actually Magnus, of all of them, who was the one to pull himself up to his feet with a start.</p>
  <p>Magnus looked alarmed.</p>
  <p>Berwald just felt so dazed. Didn't feel real.</p>
  <p>Timo just sat there.</p>
  <p>Magnus suddenly said what Berwald was thinking, with a snippy, "What do you mean gone? You didn't look everywhere."</p>
  <p>Lukas' rather testy retort, "I looked all over. Where do you think I've been, huh? What do you think I've been doing? He's gone. He's not here anymore. He's not in town. I looked everywhere. I even knocked on all the doors, even though they didn't understand what I was sayin'. He's gone, and I don't know where he went."</p>
  <p>The first stirring of dread, beneath the daze. A flip of his stomach.</p>
  <p>An annoyed wave of Lukas hand, as he added, firmly, with a look at them all, "So there. He's gone. Hope you're all happy. He's gone. Great job. Really professional. All of ya. I shoulda just stayed in Norway and gone about on my own. Woulda been a hell of a lot easier. And you all should have waited until <em>after</em> the war for all'a this."</p>
  <p>With that, Lukas turned around and stalked back outside, presumably to go back into town and try looking again so that he wouldn't punch any of them in the face.</p>
  <p>Guilt. Horror.</p>
  <p>Magnus trotted out after Lukas immediately, face pale, and Timo stood up, but Berwald could only sit there. Felt so <em>heavy</em>. So confused. Ludwig couldn't really be gone. Couldn't leave. Berwald <em>loved</em> him, so he couldn't leave. Hadn't ever loved anyone like that. Ludwig meant everything. Impossible. Ludwig couldn't just leave, not like that.</p>
  <p>A slow, dumb look over to the corner.</p>
  <p>Nope; Ludwig's rifle was still there. Couldn't be gone. Would have taken that rifle if he had planned on leaving. Ludwig would come back. Had to come back. Berwald wasn't sure that he could have really gone on if Ludwig didn't come back.</p>
  <p>So <em>lonely</em>, his entire life, until these men had settled in to his side, and then <em>lost</em> still, until Ludwig had come along. No one had ever looked at him the way Ludwig had. Everyone had walked by him without ever trying to say hello. No one had ever cared about him. No one had ever given him the time of day. No one had ever looked and him and really <em>saw</em> him, saw him there, except for Ludwig.</p>
  <p>So Ludwig couldn't be gone.</p>
  <p>It took Timo grabbing his arm and hauling him upright before Berwald could even get his feet working. Even then, even upright, they still didn't seem functional. Couldn't seem to get <em>anything</em> working, to get his mind and body to cooperate, and suddenly Timo was dragging him along.</p>
  <p>Nobody grabbed their coats; just wanted to get down there as quickly as possible, even though the snow was still high.</p>
  <p>Timo kept on dragging him. Timo was whispering in his ear, one hand on Berwald's back, but he didn't catch a single word that Timo was sayin' to him. His head was a mess, already.</p>
  <p>And it had been two damn minutes since Lukas had uttered those words.</p>
  <p>Hadn't thought he could ever feel as helpless as he did then, Timo leading him like a dog. The path hadn't ever seemed so long. The town hadn't ever seemed so <em>huge</em>. When they set foot into town, when Timo left him alone to go talk to villagers, when Berwald slumped and turned here and there, he felt absolutely overwhelmed. Engulfed. He stood there in the street, looking around, feeling so helpless and so lost even though he'd been in that town a hundred times.</p>
  <p>Didn't know where to go. Which way to turn. The streets seemed so jumbled suddenly. Buildings melded together. Signs blurred.</p>
  <p>Whirring.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was gone.</p>
  <p>And Berwald was lost.</p>
  <p>Lost. Hadn't ever felt so lost. He'd gone into Finland for the first time, all those years ago, alone and miserable and demoralized and hoping that he'd get shot, and still hadn't felt as lost then as he did now.</p>
  <p>Couldn't get his head to stop spinning long enough to even see straight. Breathing through his mouth, chest heaving and pulse pounding. Blurry vision, but he couldn't ever have said if that was from the panic or from trying so hard not to cry.</p>
  <p>Magnus had wandered off, searching high and low. Lukas was knocking on doors again.</p>
  <p>Timo, the only one who could even speak to these people, was stopping everyone in the street, and conversed as quietly as possible, and Berwald couldn't say if it was for Berwald's benefit or for the town's. If Timo was trying to be as discreet as he could for the sheer embarrassment of the situation, or if he was trying to keep the Finns from wondering if Ludwig had bailed because Finland was getting worse.</p>
  <p>If the Germans were running, then what? This little town was already miserable as could be, stuck as they were in the middle of this global confrontation. How could it have gotten any worse for them?</p>
  <p>Berwald wanted to act, wanted to help, wanted to search, but couldn't move. Stuck in the same place on the corner.</p>
  <p>Desperation.</p>
  <p>Every breath he took seemed harder and harder to find. Everything was spinning. The town started blurring.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had asked him, finally, 'When can we go home?'</p>
  <p>We. He'd fuckin' said 'we', and that had been his <em>chance</em>. His chance. Ludwig had just been leading him on, as he always did, trying to word things so that Berwald would understand them, so that Berwald would react, so that Berwald would say the right thing. Ludwig had been so damn patient with him, all that time. Had always tried to lead him, even though Berwald had always choked.</p>
  <p>So patient.</p>
  <p>Home.</p>
  <p>That had been his chance, his time to say, 'By <em>god</em>! If you wanna go <em>home</em> with me, then I'll go right <em>now</em>.'</p>
  <p>Hadn't ever in his wildest dreams thought that a man like Ludwig would ever have wanted to go home with a guy like him, and yet, somehow, Ludwig had asked.</p>
  <p>His chance. Blew it.</p>
  <p>A hand on his shoulder. A gentle voice in his ear.</p>
  <p>"Berwald, stop, stop, it's gonna be alright. He can't be too far. Come on. Stop."</p>
  <p>Dumbly, he thought 'stop what?'</p>
  <p>Took him a second to realize that his head had bowed and his eyes were squinted and that he was breathing so heavily they might have thought he was hyperventilating. Took him a second to figure out that his face had collapsed and that he was blinking back tears.</p>
  <p>Pitiful.</p>
  <p>Couldn't even keep it together long enough to figure out in which goddamn direction Ludwig had gone.</p>
  <p><em>Oh</em>. Just wanted him to come back.</p>
  <p>His second dumb thought was 'then you don't know Ludwig.'</p>
  <p>Ludwig was so smart, so stubborn, so quick, so determined; he wouldn't have put it past Ludwig to be halfway to Sweden by now, the way he was. Coulda been halfway to Estonia. To Denmark. Back to Germany.</p>
  <p>Where would Ludwig go? So many ways. So many places. So many directions.</p>
  <p>Felt overwhelming. Daunting.</p>
  <p>Berwald felt lost.</p>
  <p>Timo clapped him on the back again, when Berwald finally managed to lift his head, and then Timo carried on with his impromptu interrogations of the townsfolk.</p>
  <p>Eventually, Timo came across a familiar face, one of his guys, and was quick to grab him. Berwald could only watch as the Finn's face lit up at Timo's words, and then he nodded his head. A burst of exhilaration, and Berwald had almost marched forward to grab the man by his arms and shake him until he told him which way Ludwig went, even though he couldn't speak Finnish, but he stopped short when the Finn listened to Timo more, and suddenly seemed a bit concerned.</p>
  <p>Dark.</p>
  <p>Lower words. Whispering.</p>
  <p>Timo's face seemed tense, suddenly. Anxious.</p>
  <p>The Finn conversed with Timo in such a low tone that Berwald already felt a little ill, just in the way Timo kept looking in Berwald's direction and then down to his feet. Felt like hours, hours, miserable hours, that those two men spoke, that Berwald felt sick, that the atmosphere seemed very much to have been sucked out into space.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe.</p>
  <p>Eventually, though, Timo clapped the guy on the arm, he wandered off, and Timo came trotting back over.</p>
  <p>Berwald asked, immediately, in a voice that broke, "What did he say?"</p>
  <p>Timo glanced at him, opened his mouth, lost his voice, and then looked away. A long hesitation. And then Timo just said, simply, "Don't worry about it, Berwald. We'll find him, alright?"</p>
  <p>And then, oh god, Timo went to Lukas farther on down the street, leaned in, and started whispering in his ear, and Berwald could see the faint crease in Lukas' brow. Another quick glance at Berwald.</p>
  <p>Oh, what had the Finn said? Why couldn't they tell him?</p>
  <p>Lukas stood up straight, looking around quickly, and suddenly he was shifting his weight and looking so concerned. Lukas was never worried about anything. And then Lukas went to Magnus, and whispered in his ear, as Timo had whispered in his. Magnus' face crumpled, for a second, he hung his head, sucked in a great breath, and Berwald could see the rising of guilt on his face.</p>
  <p>Oh, tell <em>him</em>. Wished they'd tell <em>him</em>.</p>
  <p>He heard Magnus' low, trembling voice as he went over and reached out to grab Timo's hands. The sound of his voice as he beseeched, lowly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it's my fault. I'm sorry."</p>
  <p>What was going on?</p>
  <p>Felt so dazed. Just wanted to know.</p>
  <p>Timo's low whisper.</p>
  <p>"It'll be alright. We'll find him, somewhere. Maybe you should go back home. Go. Take him with you."</p>
  <p>Him; Berwald.</p>
  <p>Like hell. He wouldn't go back, not until Ludwig was in his sights, not until he knew what was happening, and for yet another time that day, maybe he and Magnus were of the same mind, because Magnus immediately shook his head and said, "No, I'm not going back. I gotta go. It's my <em>fault</em>; I gotta find him."</p>
  <p>Timo frowned a bit, furrowing his brow and seeming a bit uncomfortable, but in the end Timo didn't really seem as if he even had the energy to argue; looked so tired, all of a sudden. So Timo just nodded his head, slumping, and looked around.</p>
  <p>From there, everything fell apart for Berwald. Shut down a little, as the others tried to figure out what to do. They didn't involve him in their quick conversation, which was for the best, because he wasn't sure he would even be able to talk then.</p>
  <p>Didn't take Timo too long to get a car.</p>
  <p>A car?</p>
  <p>Oh, had Ludwig really gone? Couldn't be.</p>
  <p>Berwald just floated back and forth as the world moved around him, so sick with adrenaline that he couldn't do much else, and found himself relying on Timo to get him where he needed to go. Couldn't seem to really function anymore. Without Ludwig, felt like the world had just stopped.</p>
  <p>Everything stopped.</p>
  <p>Timo ushered Berwald in the car, as fast as he could while still being thorough. Timo rummaged through the car shortly after sitting Berwald down, tossing out anything that looked suspicious, and in the back seat, Magnus was staring at his lap and chewing away on his lip.</p>
  <p>The engine started. Hadn't even heard Timo get in. A hand on his arm.</p>
  <p>"It'll be alright. There's only one road outta here, Berwald. He can't be far."</p>
  <p>Berwald just did whatever Timo nudged him to, dumbly, and felt so out of it. Nodded anyway, even though he didn't take comfort in Timo's words.</p>
  <p>Felt far away.</p>
  <p>Lukas was behind them, in a different car. Apart. Maybe Lukas just couldn't stand to be inside of a vehicle with any one of them in that instant. Lukas was so <em>mad</em>. Rightfully so.</p>
  <p>The scenery started moving. Trees, going by in a blur.</p>
  <p>Timo sped along so fast that Berwald would have been scared they were going to fly right off the road if he hadn't been so sick. A crash seemed like the least of his worries, suddenly, not if Ludwig was nowhere to be found. Couldn't fathom that thought. If Ludwig just outpaced them and couldn't ever be caught. Oh, god. Not ever seeing Ludwig again...</p>
  <p>Wouldn't even have known what to do with himself. If Ludwig had gone away forever. Felt as if his entire existence would just come to an end.</p>
  <p>The speeding trees started slowing. A lurch forward, and Berwald reached out automatically to place his hands on the dash when Timo suddenly slammed on the brakes. Tires, skidding on the road. Squealing.</p>
  <p>A pain in his wrists, as the force of the stop pushed him forward.</p>
  <p>A dumb, hopeful lift of his head right after. Had they caught up to Ludwig? Oh, <em>please</em>—</p>
  <p>Nothing.</p>
  <p>He looked up, looked around, and there was nothing. No car. No Ludwig. Nothing.</p>
  <p>Why had Timo stopped so abruptly?</p>
  <p>He looked over, and felt his dreaminess lift a little with panic at the look on Timo's face; wide-eyed, mouth open and brow furrowed, eyes focused in concentration, a bit pale. Staring at something over Berwald's shoulder.</p>
  <p>Berwald tried to follow his gaze, to see what sharp Timo had seen, and after a second, he could. By the time his slow mind saw, though, Timo had already put the car in park and had leapt out. Magnus bolted out so fast then that he somehow had overtaken Timo and was ahead of him. Going down the hill.</p>
  <p>Berwald sat behind in the car, dumbly, and tried to figure it out.</p>
  <p>Then he saw.</p>
  <p>Skid marks on the road ahead of them. Tire tracks down the side of the hill in the snow. The faint smell of smoke, and the sight of it rising from within the trees below.</p>
  <p>Somehow, Berwald reached the handle, pushed open the door, and stepped out. Felt himself stumbling down the hill, trying to stay close to the two ahead of him. Couldn't seem to walk straight, though. Dread, mounting. That dull numbness was steadily giving way to nausea.</p>
  <p>And then, at the bottom of the hill, bounding Magnus suddenly froze still, eyes glued to the trees beyond.</p>
  <p>Berwald's feet seemed stuck in the powder. The icy dread was unbearable. Stifling. Couldn't breathe, couldn't, felt like his chest was collapsing in on itself. He struggled to catch up, even in going downhill.</p>
  <p>But then suddenly, he almost didn't <em>want</em> to catch up, didn't want to move, because Magnus whirled around, and Christ almighty, he was whiter than the snow itself, and there was a blur as Magnus' hand flew up to his mouth.</p>
  <p>Silence. Such silence.</p>
  <p>Then Magnus' hand crept up from his mouth to the bridge of his nose as his face collapsed, and he squinted his eyes as he nearly dissolved into tears right there.</p>
  <p>Timo had stopped too, staring straight ahead, bristling and eyes very wide.</p>
  <p>Berwald froze still. He didn't want to see what was at the bottom of that hill. What were they looking at?</p>
  <p>Timo was the first to get it together and dart down through the snow, into the trees. Magnus regained his composure right after, lowered his hand, and even though Berwald could see the water building in his eyes, he turned around and pushed forward nonetheless.</p>
  <p>Terror. The worst kind of anxiety. The nausea kept on rising.</p>
  <p>He couldn't move.</p>
  <p>The only reason he even managed to take another step then was because he staggered, and had no choice but to move his leg to keep from falling on his face. From there, his legs seemed to find a way to put themselves in front of the other and form some kind of walk, no matter how unsteady it was. Somehow, he made it to the bottom. Wished right away that he hadn't.</p>
  <p>Berwald saw the car then from a distance, and knew why Magnus had frozen up.</p>
  <p>Wreckage. The car sat there, still and alone in the entrance to the forest, smashed into the front of a great tree. The smoke was still rising from the engine, still smoking, so it had to be recent, and that meant that this had to be the car that Ludwig had taken. Had to be.</p>
  <p>No one inside.</p>
  <p>Didn't want to go any farther. Stood still. The forest suddenly seemed so quiet. Too quiet.</p>
  <p>And then, in that silence, in those trees, behind that car, he heard a terrible, strangled shriek.</p>
  <p>He shivered. Cold-sweating, suddenly, at that awful sound.</p>
  <p>Knew it was Magnus, had to be, but didn't recognize the sound as coming from him. Hadn't ever heard that sound, not a sound like that, and hadn't ever wanted to. The kind of sound that they had spent so long avoiding.</p>
  <p>The kind of sound that made even hardened soldiers shudder.</p>
  <p>He couldn't have ever said how he had found the strength to keep walking then, how he managed to lift his foot and take that step, and then another, but he did.</p>
  <p>As before, wished he hadn't.</p>
  <p>There, on the other side of the car, Berwald saw.</p>
  <p>Magnus was on his knees. The snow was red, and so were Magnus' hands.</p>
  <p>His foot stopped in the air, mid-step, as everything in him clenched up and froze still.</p>
  <p>Behind Magnus, beneath his stained hands, beneath his kneeling stance, there was a glint of yellow. A flash of pale gold, in the sunlight reflecting off of the snow. Just a second, just a glimpse, before kneeling Magnus leaned farther down and blocked his view.</p>
  <p>Timo just stood there in front of the car, and seemed stunned into immobility.</p>
  <p>Couldn't see anymore, but Berwald knew. Knew, in the way that Magnus had burst so fiercely into tears that he was gasping through his mouth and <em>wailing</em> as he may have been trying to form words but was absolutely unsuccessful. Knew, in the way that Magnus' hands shook so bad that his arms and shoulders shook with them. Knew, in that dark snow. Knew, in that flash of gold. He knew.</p>
  <p>He knew.</p>
  <p>Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Could only have been Ludwig, to make Magnus cry like that. Those two had been something close to best friends. Wailing. Hadn't ever heard Magnus make such sounds. Didn't know anybody could.</p>
  <p>He knew.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe. All air had gone. Dizziness.</p>
  <p>Timo was pale as a sheet, suddenly, but had whirled around all the same, hands clenching the fabric of Berwald's shirt and shoving him rather forcefully backwards.</p>
  <p>Too late; Berwald had seen. Too late for Timo's effort at shielding him, at hiding it from him, at not letting him see, too late, he'd already seen it, seen it, and now he couldn't even breathe. Timo's hands in his shirt were the only things that seemed to be keeping him standing anymore, and even as Timo looked over his shoulder at Magnus, he didn't break his grip on Berwald.</p>
  <p>Was he afraid Berwald was going to run forward? Impossible; he couldn't have moved then if he had tried. Couldn't even think. Felt like his mind had suddenly had the switch flipped off.</p>
  <p>Darkness.</p>
  <p>Waited too long. Ludwig didn't move.</p>
  <p>No sound at all in the forest aside from Magnus' incomprehensible blubbering.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't move.</p>
  <p>Ludwig. Berwald had loved that man. Just hadn't ever said it.</p>
  <p>Hadn't ever said it. Why hadn't he said it? Ludwig had been waiting, all that time, had kept looking on him and waiting, but he hadn't ever been able to say it. It. So hard to say <em>it</em>. Could think it all the time, sure, it was so easy to think 'I love you', but so hard to say it. Hadn't ever said it, not once, they'd been together, all of them, for two years, and in all that time Berwald had never once been able to say a single goddamn thing he had been thinking, not once. Oh, too late to say it now. He'd waited too long. Waited too long to say it. Waited too long to tell Ludwig what he was thinking and feeling. Too long.</p>
  <p>Too long.</p>
  <p>Oh. <em>God</em>.</p>
  <p>God, god, god, he'd waited too long, he'd fumbled around with his own mind for so long, thinkin' they'd have all the time in the world, all the time, young men always had endless time, why <em>should</em> he have rushed, because Ludwig was so young and young men didn't ever really just up and die, so he'd taken his <em>time</em>—</p>
  <p>He'd waited too long. Time had run out.</p>
  <p>He hadn't rushed before.</p>
  <p>Now Ludwig didn't move.</p>
  <p>Rollin', rollin', rollin', all the way down that hill, and Ludwig had waited down there at the bottom for him, but he'd been too slow, and Ludwig had gone and left him behind, and when he'd finally come to a stop and pulled himself to his feet, he was standing alone there in the snow, with only distant footprints, because Ludwig was always so far ahead of him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had always been braver, bolder, smarter. Faster.</p>
  <p>Ludwig wouldn't ever wait for him, because Berwald hadn't ever known what to say. Ludwig had gotten tired of waiting, who wouldn't, and had instead tried to lead Berwald from afar. Ludwig had tried to guide him, tried to push him on, tried to show him what to do and say, but Berwald still hadn't been able to get it together.</p>
  <p>Someone was talking to him. He didn't make out the words.</p>
  <p>Just ringing in his ears. Whooshing.</p>
  <p>Felt so lost. Like he had been dropped down into the middle of a forest he'd never been in. Couldn't see the end. Just the same trees, over and over again. Ludwig had been able to find his way out of the forest, out of that forest he'd been in lost in, but Berwald kept on walking and walking and yet the end never seemed to be in sight. Just kept on going.</p>
  <p>Lost.</p>
  <p>Timo's hands tried hard to keep him steady, but he had started swaying as balance left him. Legs felt so weak. Felt as if everything had left him.</p>
  <p>Everything had; Ludwig didn't move.</p>
  <p>And then, suddenly, there was silence. Magnus was quiet. Thought his ears had given out. Not quite; could still hear Timo murmuring away, although the words seemed so distant.</p>
  <p>"—Berwald, just breathe, it'll—it'll be alright, don't look—"</p>
  <p>Breathe? That was impossible, too.</p>
  <p>His chest was hurting, for whatever reason. Couldn't seem to come to long enough to make sense of anything going on around him. Like his mind, like his thoughts, the events around him were just disjointed, floating bits that he couldn't put together.</p>
  <p>Magnus' pitiful, distressed blubbering fell silent, out of nowhere, as suddenly and frighteningly as it began.</p>
  <p>Stillness.</p>
  <p>A sharp inhale. Strangled gasps, as Magnus tried to breathe. Wheezing. Shuffling. Rustling. Magnus couldn't seem to find enough air. Couldn't seem to function again.</p>
  <p>His thoughts. Yeah, couldn't ever put them together, that was true, never could.</p>
  <p>Oh. Berwald wished, more than anything, that he had just fuckin' <em>told</em> Ludwig. That he had been able to say every single word that had been running up in his head. That he could have put every one of those thoughts into tangible sentences, even if he had had to sit there and try to write them down. That would have been better than nothing, trying to sit there and write, god knew he couldn't talk, couldn't ever speak, so why hadn't he tried to write instead?</p>
  <p>So many things in his head all the time, so many things, and every single time he opened his mouth, nothing ever came out.</p>
  <p>Wished that he would have tried harder. That he had been braver. That he had been able to look Ludwig in the eye and say, 'I've never loved anything as much as I love you.'</p>
  <p>So many thoughts, so many pieces, so many fragments, and he hadn't been able to put a single one together. Not a single one.</p>
  <p>He should have been braver, should have said it, even if it had come out wrong, even if he had made a fool of himself in the end, he should have tried. Should have tried. Even if this had still happened some way, then at least Ludwig woulda known. Woulda known everything, woulda known that Berwald would have given anything for him, anything at all. Woulda died knowing that Berwald had <em>loved</em> him. Had loved him so much, so much, just hadn't ever been able to put it into words.</p>
  <p>People had ignored him his whole life, had always walked by him, had always passed by without seeing him, so he didn't know how to <em>talk</em> to them, that was all. Didn't know how to talk to people, because they hadn't ever talked to him. Didn't know how to say it, but he could feel it all the same, he could feel it so he should have been able to express it, and he should have told Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Hadn't ever been able to say it.</p>
  <p>Too late. Came too late.</p>
  <p>And then Magnus was shrieking again.</p>
  <p>A terrible, shrill voice that was somehow as elated as it was terrified. As much as he hadn't known that Magnus could wail like that, he hadn't really know that his voice could get that high, either.</p>
  <p>"—Christ, <em>Timo</em>! <em>Timo</em>! Timo, he's fuckin' <em>alive</em>! <em>Timo</em>! Come <em>here</em>, he's <em>alive</em>—"</p>
  <p>The world had ended. Ludwig didn't move.</p>
  <p>Timo's hands left him. Berwald didn't notice. Everything felt numb. Freezing. Hadn't ever been so cold in his life.</p>
  <p>The bed had been empty. Cold.</p>
  <p>Alone again. Always wound up alone, it seemed, no matter where he went. Everyone left. He had always been unlucky, always, but even this felt far too unfair for one person. Couldn't be normal, this amount of bad luck, couldn't be. He had done something wrong, somewhere along the line. Why couldn't he have ever found stable ground? Just wanted someone to <em>stay</em>. Stay.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been his best chance. Like everything else, he blew it.</p>
  <p>Distant voices, as Timo and Magnus butted heads and hissed at each other. Magnus' shaking hands, covered in blood. Timo's wide eyes and high voice. Frantic motions.</p>
  <p>Someone was crying—he could hear it, through the fog.</p>
  <p>Something was digging into his back. Chest hurt more than ever. His head was killing him. His hands were aching.</p>
  <p>Nightmares.</p>
  <p>The nights had always been dark for him. Maybe some people could see the night coming and see the stars, but he had only ever seen the nightmares. Nightmares. Oh, the <em>nightmares </em>he'd had, his entire life; started in childhood and had only gotten worse as he grew older. They never stopped. First his parents, dying all over again, on an endless loop, then his grandmother, and then that man from the bar. Never any rest. Every single night they came. Being awake was miserable enough, but then he didn't even have the luck to be able to sleep, for those fuckin' nightmares. Couldn't ever rest, couldn't ever escape. Always, the next time, worse still. Horrible things. Afterwards, after all of that, it was those soldiers. The soldiers from that doomed old ghost train, burnt and dark and bloody, and they'd come after him all those nights, staring out at him from the closet and staring, staring at him with fixed eyes, smiling and whispering to each other about when they were going to sneak out, as soon as he'd fallen asleep they'd sneak out and they'd surround him and place their charred fingers upon him and drag him kicking and screaming into the dark closet. The closet. Dark—darker than night and maybe longer and deeper than could be seen, and they'd drag him down, down, down, into darkness, and he could smell the sickly sweet of their burnt flesh, the eerie gleam of white teeth against black and red as they smiled, and they dragged him—</p>
  <p>"—can we? Get him up, we gotta go, we gotta get him <em>warm</em>! Get—get that fuckin' kit out of the trunk, get it, get it ready—"</p>
  <p>—until Ludwig had grabbed his hand in the middle of the night.</p>
  <p>"I can't! You can't carry him by yourself, he's too heavy, help me get him—"</p>
  <p>Ludwig had taken his hand that first night, in the midnight hour, starting him awake and chasing away that godawful stench of burning, the darkness and the aching in his chest and that numbing guilt and those terrifying smiles, and when he had gone back to sleep, Ludwig's hand around his own, there had been no more nightmares.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had had nightmares too. Had known that somehow, and Ludwig had known that he had, too, otherwise Ludwig wouldn't have grabbed his hand that night. They had seen it in each other, that misery, and put their heads together, because when they were together the nightmares couldn't get through. For the first time in his entire life, he had slept one night without having a single dream. Just darkness. Rest. Calm.</p>
  <p>Hadn't ever felt that.</p>
  <p>Magnus' pathetic, high-pitched, sobbing cry.</p>
  <p>"I don't know what to <em>do</em>—"</p>
  <p>Timo's calmer voice, always in charge, no matter what, always with ideas, always knowing what to do even in the worst of times.</p>
  <p>"Stop, stop, you gotta stop, just help me get him up, you gotta help me, look—<em>look</em> at me—"</p>
  <p>Magnus hadn't been cut out for this kind of war.</p>
  <p>A snap of fingers.</p>
  <p>But not directed at Magnus anymore, because suddenly there were hands on his face again, and Timo was shaking him.</p>
  <p>"<em>Get up</em>! Get up, Berwald! Get up, I need you!"</p>
  <p>Get up? When had he gone down?</p>
  <p>Felt the tree, then.</p>
  <p>The pain in his back was from the bark of the tree that he had collapsed against. His hands hurt because his fingernails were digging into his palms so hard that they were bleeding. His chest hurt because he was gasping for air so hard and fast that he was hyperventilating. He was on the ground, legs splayed out in front of him and arms limp at his sides. The only thing keeping his head upright then were Timo's hands, gripping him so hard that the sides of his glasses dug into his face.</p>
  <p>Timo's hands were freezing, red from the cold. Magnus' hands were red, too, but not from the temperature.</p>
  <p>Things came in and out, but none of it lingered in his mind. Just felt dull. Far-away.</p>
  <p>Wonder what kinds of nightmares Ludwig had. Hadn't ever asked. Should have asked. So many things he should have done differently. Wouldn't get another chance.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had been so patient with him, but he had always choked.</p>
  <p>Pitiful. Always had been.</p>
  <p>"Berwald! <em>Berwald</em>, look at me, I <em>need</em> you, I need you to <em>get up</em>, I need you to help me carry him! Berwald! Please, look at me, I need you now, please get up, wake up!"</p>
  <p>When was the last time he had ever been happy? Before Ludwig, he couldn't even remember. Not since his parents had been alive—</p>
  <p>"<em>Oh</em>, Berwald, please, <em>please</em>, stop! <em>Please</em> stop! Please get up, please!"</p>
  <p>A life of misery. Alone.</p>
  <p>Always alone. Hadn't ever wanted to be, it just always seemed to happen that way. Seemed that everywhere he had gone afterwards, he never really found anyone or anything that had called to him. Wandering from town to town all those years, alone. No one to go to, no one beside of him, no one behind him, no one waiting for him, no one looking for him, no one that even <em>knew</em> him.</p>
  <p>Had gone years and years without telling anyone his name, because no one had ever asked. How sad! Years, without ever once saying his name aloud.</p>
  <p>No one had ever given him a second look.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had, who knew <em>why</em>.</p>
  <p>Wished he would have known what Ludwig had seen in him, because he could have used that knowledge to gather up enough courage to say what he needed to say. Ludwig had been nice to him, for no reason at all, and for that Berwald would have given him anything.</p>
  <p>Look where they were now. The snow was red.</p>
  <p>"Timo! Let's go! Let's <em>go</em>, Timo, I need you, I <em>need</em> you, please, leave him there! We gotta go, leave him there! Lukas can get him, let's go! Oh, Timo, please, <em>please</em>, he's bleedin' <em>so</em> bad, so bad, we gotta <em>go</em>—"</p>
  <p>The hands left his face.</p>
  <p>Footsteps.</p>
  <p>Whoever was crying was still going at it. And <em>such</em> crying. Hadn't ever heard such crying. Miserable, pitiful sobs. Choking. Coughing. Who was <em>crying</em> like that? Absolute bawling. Caterwauling. Hysterical.</p>
  <p>The bed had been empty for so long now.</p>
  <p>Hadn't been empty, once. Once, there had been someone beside of him. He had woken up next to someone else, once.</p>
  <p>No more. No more. Ludwig wasn't in the bed anymore when he woke up, and the fuckin' nightmares had come back. Just wanted Ludwig to come back to sleep with him so that he wouldn't be alone. Hated not having those arms around him anymore. Ludwig was gone. No more arms around him. No more fingers in his hair. No more burrowing in his neck.</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was gone. The bed was empty.</p>
  <p>"Come on, pick him up! Get his legs, go on, come on!"</p>
  <p>A different voice, as someone came skidding down the hill.</p>
  <p>"—almighty, what—<em>what</em>! He's alive, is he alive? God, hurry up, hurry up—"</p>
  <p>Ludwig.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had tried his best to get through to Berwald.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had stayed with him, even though he had been too dumb to think of good conversation and too slow to answer his quick questions and too confused to get everything together. It hadn't mattered; Ludwig had stuck by him. Even knowing that it wouldn't ever be worth it, that he wasn't <em>worth </em>all the trouble, still Ludwig had taken his back and held his hand and just smiled at him, and it had felt so good to be <em>smiled</em> at.</p>
  <p>Just smiling.</p>
  <p>No one had ever backed him up the way Ludwig had, without question. Without reason. Without wanting anything in return. Ludwig had just been nice to him, had smiled at him, had loved him, without getting anything. Ludwig had done it all because, for whatever stupid reason, Ludwig had <em>seen</em> Berwald and had liked what had been before him.</p>
  <p>No one had ever seen any worth in him, not ever.</p>
  <p>The others humored him, that was all. They put up with him. They suffered him. Maybe, at some level, maybe they liked him, but as little more than a companion of war.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had always just smiled at him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had tried his best, but Berwald had just been too slow.</p>
  <p>"We're takin' him, go get <em>him</em>, he won't move. Get Berwald, and follow us, we gotta go, now!"</p>
  <p>"But what are we gonna do?"</p>
  <p>"I don't know! <em>I don't know</em>, just get him! We'll think of something, just get him! We'll figure out somethin'—"</p>
  <p>Footsteps, this time closer.</p>
  <p>A voice. A sting. The sensation of warmth on his cheek. Someone was screaming his name, he was sure of it.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had wanted to go home with him. Had asked. Ludwig had wanted to go home with him, of all people. Why hadn't he answered? Why hadn't he said what he had wanted to say?</p>
  <p>Ludwig had asked.</p>
  <p>"Berwald! Christ, <em>Berwald</em>! Come on—"</p>
  <p>He started as if from sleep, at another sting on his cheek. Heaviness in his chest.</p>
  <p>And when he finally gathered up the sense and the strength to lift his head up on his own, when he came back from the brink, if only for a second, eyes were staring at him. Familiar eyes.</p>
  <p>Not Ludwig's eyes.</p>
  <p>Familiar.</p>
  <p>Lukas.</p>
  <p>Lukas was speaking, he <em>must </em>have been speaking because his mouth was moving, but the words were lost to space, and Berwald could only stare up, eyes wide and completely breathless. Could see Lukas' eyes, could stare at him, but couldn't really seem to <em>see</em> him, even though he was so close that Berwald could feel the warmth of his breath.</p>
  <p>Couldn't focus. He couldn't move. He couldn't think.</p>
  <p>No air.</p>
  <p>Lukas was shaking him.</p>
  <p>Shaking. Maybe he was shaking on his own, freezing as he was. Trembling. His cheek stung. Everything was cold. Why was it so cold?</p>
  <p>The snow had turned crimson.</p>
  <p>And he realized that Lukas was slapping him, over and over again, and that's why his cheek stung, and as he watched, feeling distant and numb, Lukas pulled back his hand and slapped him yet again.</p>
  <p>Wide eyes met wide eyes.</p>
  <p>Lukas.</p>
  <p>It was Lukas who hovered there over him, knelt down in the snow. Cool hands on his face.</p>
  <p>And for the first time, Berwald was looking back. He really saw him. Just for a moment, he came to enough to see Lukas.</p>
  <p>"Berwald," came the urgent cry, and yet even though he heard the words, they didn't sink in, "Get up, Ludwig's alive! Come on, we can't wait, we haveta go, Berwald! For Christ's <em>sake</em>, Berwald, get <em>up</em>! <em>Get up</em>!"</p>
  <p>Lukas had never screamed at him before.</p>
  <p>Couldn't move.</p>
  <p>Dumbly, he gazed up at Lukas from behind foggy glasses, and finally, he spoke.</p>
  <p>Everything was wrong. Upside down.</p>
  <p>Crimson snow. The closet was always dark.</p>
  <p>His voice came out, a deep rumble brought up from his aching chest, and Lukas leaned forward, struggling to hear him even in the still forest. He couldn't seem to control his mind.</p>
  <p>His voice came out on its own.</p>
  <p>"I shoulda told 'im. Came too late."</p>
  <p>He smiled then, breathlessly, and his hands fell into his lap, and the look on Lukas' face was something like horror. And Berwald realized, then, as his lungs hurt and his chest hurt and his face was wet, that he was the one who'd been crying like that the whole time.</p>
  <p>Couldn't breathe, because he had been the one wailing.</p>
  <p>Lukas stared at him, eyes wide and brow low, looking so scared, and Berwald gave him one last smile. Thought that Lukas was gonna slap him again, but Lukas seemed so stuck, as stuck then as Berwald had been.</p>
  <p>Anyway, wouldn't have mattered if Lukas slapped him again or not.</p>
  <p>With that last smile, Berwald found himself checking out of the building.</p>
  <p>Everything shut down, and fell still. His mind went dark.</p>
  <p>He'd waited too long. Ludwig didn't move. He'd come too late.</p>
  <p>He sat there, the bark of the tree digging in through his shirt, bawling so hard that he couldn't even breathe, and Lukas just knelt there in front of him, hands tangled in Berwald's collar and trying his best to cart heavy Berwald back upright. No go. Too late.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't move.</p>
  <p>And Berwald couldn't stop crying.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Understand Your Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 20</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Understand Your Man</strong>
</p><p>Nightmares.</p><p>They had always been a curse of his, those awful nightmares, and probably always would be until the day he mercifully died. He suffered as much when he slept as he did when he was awake. Had his entire life, and he had accepted he would never be rid of them. This time, though, the nightmares had stopped. Gone. Vanished. None this time. No sleep, no nightmares. Hadn't slept in days. Couldn't. And if he didn't sleep, then he couldn't dream.</p><p>No nightmares.</p><p>In fact, there was no nothin'. Blank space.</p><p>Reality almost seemed worse than nightmares these days, at least from what little of reality Berwald was actually aware of. Those days, the world was a blur. Couldn't see it, couldn't smell it, couldn't hear it. Couldn't grasp it. Ever since that moment, that second the snow had turned red, it seemed that everything had shut down. He had gone completely into autopilot. Had gone through those awful spells of deep depression before, where everything was numb and simple tasks were difficult, but had never once experienced such utter shock.</p><p>Had never once been catatonic, until that day.</p><p>He didn't remember how he had gotten back to town. Didn't remember how he had wound up there on that sidewalk. Didn't remember when everyone had gathered together in the street.</p><p>Berwald had just floated above them.</p><p>Could see them, could see Timo and Magnus and Lukas, but couldn't hear them when they spoke.</p><p>Berwald had watched as Magnus had stalked around in circles in a furious panic, had known from the expression on his face and the way he was waving his arms that he was shrieking, but the sound was gone. He had watched as Lukas, always so cool and prim, was wide-eyed and ruffled and waving his hands threateningly in Magnus' direction, fury there upon his face. He had watched as Magnus had shoved Lukas' chest in anger, had shoved Timo away. He had watched as Ludwig had rested so still upon the ground, outside of the first buildings of town, as far as Timo had dared drive before he had pulled over in fright. Berwald watched as Timo's Finns hovered over still Ludwig, and everyone, everyone, everyone was rushing, everyone was panicking, everyone was sprinting and running and hurrying.</p><p>Everyone.</p><p>Not Berwald.</p><p>He had just sat there on the curb, legs splayed out before him and arms resting in between, and watched everything passing in a blur. Slow. He felt no rush. Time was slow. Just watched everything unfold as it would as a bystander.</p><p>One of the Finns had been ordered by Timo to keep Berwald above the water; there were hands on his shoulders, sometimes there was a gentle slap to his cheek, and sometimes he was given a shake. Didn't register any of it. Just kept watching the scenery through the veil.</p><p>Ludwig wasn't rushing either; just inert there on the street. No movement. He hadn't moved once the entire time.</p><p>Magnus and Lukas were screaming at each other, on the brink of leaping at each other and throwing down there right in the street. Those two loved each other, but in that instant they truly looked like they were intent on hurting the other. When Lukas was angry, he bristled up like a cat, his legs splayed and his fists clenched, and it might have been the only time that Berwald could have said that Lukas downright <em>terrified</em> him, or would have, anyway, if he had been able to feel anything. When Lukas was angry, it was like staring into the abyss.</p><p>Why were they fighting? Why were they going at each other like that?</p><p>...didn't matter.</p><p>Shock and pressure and panic brought out the worst in a man. None of them were any exception, and when Magnus struck out, for the first time, and punched Lukas in the face, Berwald didn't even lift a brow or flinch. Brawling seemed so boring, so dull, against that bright shade of crimson that soaked Magnus and Timo.</p><p>Ludwig musta been bored, too, 'cause he sure as hell hadn't moved or talked.</p><p>Some part of him was aware when Magnus had snatched something from Timo's hands, when he had sat down on the dirty street right beside of Ludwig, when one of the Finns had taken off his belt and looped it around Magnus' arm, when there had been a gleam in the light, when Magnus had looked pale.</p><p>Lukas hovered above and away, watching on but no longer speaking, holding his bloody nose and looking oddly alarmed. Eyes wide as could be and breathing though his mouth. Ha. Funny, seeing Lukas like that. Woulda laughed, had he been able to find his voice or any sort of coherency.</p><p>Faint. In and out.</p><p>Ludwig was blocked from view then, as other men knelt before him.</p><p>Caught glimpses of metal glinting in the pale light. People passing things to the kneeling men.</p><p>Magnus kept getting paler. Started closing his eyes and lowering his head as if he were suddenly sick. Afterwards, the Finns had to hold him upright. Timo was holding something. Flashes of red. Magnus panting through his mouth and sweating. Lukas hovering, pacing relentlessly, the hair on his arms standing upright in the cold and looking so panicked, blood all over his face. Lukas stopped sometimes behind Magnus, and looked like he wanted to just grab him and throw him off the top of a building.</p><p>Join the club.</p><p>Timo darted away suddenly, to the edge of the street, and bent over. Lukas was white as a sheet, staring down at that obscured Ludwig, and seemed horrified by something and yet unable to look away.</p><p>The sun started going down beneath the horizon. Stars appearing faintly in the orange haze. Seemed so colorless. Bland.</p><p>Night.</p><p>That must have been why he felt so tired.</p><p>The next thing Berwald really knew, he was in a room somewhere, and he didn't know where or what time it was or what day it was. Just nothing. Everything was so quiet. Ludwig wasn't there. Alone.</p><p>Ludwig hadn't moved, not once.</p><p>No nightmares; woulda traded them, would have taken them all back, would have lived through them every single night for the rest of his life, if Ludwig would only have moved. Just once.</p><p>The clock stood still at midnight.</p><p>Catatonia.</p><p>His hands couldn't really work without Ludwig holding them.</p><hr/><p>Lights.</p><p>Thought they were fireflies at first, like they had been that night.</p><p>That night; seemed like a distasteful memory now.</p><p>Far away, blurry, orange. Glowing and shimmering from within the darkness. Distant, garbled sounds. Whirring. He felt as if he were hovering on some brink, the edge of some cliff that he couldn't see. The great precipice beneath his feet.</p><p>A long darkness, that he felt like he'd been walking through for years. Distant voices on the horizon and yet not a word of it truly audible. Shadows and glimmers of colored light. He'd been wandering for years, and nothing had been in sight. Glimpses of things from time to time. Sometimes, the feel of hands, but always gone before he even thought to look.</p><p>He lingered there above that ledge for eternity.</p><p>Whispering.</p><p>Sometimes one of those whispers would get clearer, and he could have sworn that it was Gilbert's voice. That old voice, that loving voice, that rough and crass voice that had always turned so soft when Gilbert had been speaking to <em>him</em>, and it was that voice, that memory, that kept him from taking a step forward and plummeting over the edge. That voice led him back. That memory led him back. He came back from the edge in search of Gilbert's voice.</p><p>Had wanted to hear another voice, had wanted to feel those hands, but couldn't get to them through that darkness. Something in the way.</p><p>Gilbert pulled him away.</p><p>Another step back. The cliff distanced itself from him.</p><p>He stepped back.</p><p>The fireflies suddenly came out in full force; everything was orange. Too bright. A great haze of light.</p><p>Not fireflies, after all; the lights shifted from orange to yellow, and then white, and then, suddenly, his eyes were hurting and so was his head, and his chest was very much on fire. The cliff had turned into acid. He came from the blackness of nothingness into absolute agony. Hurt so bad he couldn't even breathe. The lights were painful. Sounds were painful. Touch was painful. Being awake was painful. Thinking was painful.</p><p>Throbbing.</p><p>Beneath him, cool fabric. Didn't know what, didn't know where he was, didn't know why he hurt so bad, why he couldn't breathe, and beyond it all, he didn't know why he was suddenly so cold.</p><p>Freezing.</p><p>Consciousness came back before any of his senses, and he dug his fingers into the fabric beneath him and tried, with everything he had, to push himself upright. Got two centimeters before his vision went blacker than it already had been, his hearing was replaced with ringing, dizziness rushed up out of nowhere, those bright lights came back, and the next thing he knew, he was laying back down and hands were on his chest.</p><p>Had just enough awareness to know that he was lying down somewhere, and that he couldn't get up. Passed out trying to sit up. Didn't understand at first, but he realized it once his brain started whirring back up. That feeling. Stuck in place as it was, unable to move, and so cold.</p><p>So cold.</p><p>He was shivering, suddenly, so hard that it made that agony all the more unbearable. Couldn't stop shivering, even though the motion itself was killing him. Hurt so bad, so fuckin' bad, he was about to pass out again, he could feel it. Couldn't even really remember what the hell he had done to himself to feel this awful. He was dying.</p><p>Pressure. A crooning whisper.</p><p>He heard himself whisper, despite not consciously controlling his voice, "Where's Gilbert?"</p><p>Low murmurs and conversation. Couldn't grasp any of it.</p><p>Gilbert's voice had been there, he was so sure of it.</p><p>Familiar hands upon his chest. Just not the ones he had been used to feeling lately. Lately...? How long ago was lately? Felt like he had been gone for years. Dazed. Still lost in the dark.</p><p>The distant sound of a rifle.</p><p>Right. A gunshot; that was what had done him in. He remembered. The Red. He was far away from home, and Gilbert wasn't here. Somehow, that didn't even seem like the worst part.</p><p>A voice.</p><p>His brain was slowly able to process speech again, and words flooded in over the whooshing.</p><p>"Don't move. You gotta be still. Sit up and you're gonna pass out again."</p><p>A familiar voice.</p><p>A familiar voice, because he knew right off that it was Timo, and familiar hands, because he had very recently realized how similar those hands were to his own. Timo was above him, could feel him and hear him, even though he couldn't yet focus his eyes enough to see.</p><p>Timo.</p><p>Why was Timo here? He had left them. He had left Timo behind. Had left all of them behind, his brothers, and hadn't ever planned on seeing them again.</p><p>Once, he had loved the feel of Timo's hands constantly upon him. This time, as Timo ran a hand over his forehead, sweeping back his damp bangs, as Timo ran hands down his neck and whispered, mostly to himself, "You're still so cold," as Timo pushed a blanket down firmly above him and then sat down beside of him in an effort to give him warmth, Ludwig just wanted to squirm away from him, but didn't have the strength.</p><p>Go away.</p><p>Wanted Timo to go away, but he wouldn't, and Timo was suddenly all but laying atop of him.</p><p>Ludwig loved Timo, he really did, he loved that man as much as he loved Magnus, as much as he loved Gilbert, but couldn't seem to stand the feel of him in that moment. Couldn't stand the smell of his hair. Couldn't stand the mixture of cologne and sweat and distress, couldn't stand the scent of Timo. Couldn't stand the sensation of Timo's chest above his own.</p><p>Another hand was suddenly upon his brow.</p><p>The worst part of the entire bleary, painful ordeal was that, beyond anything, Ludwig just wanted it to be Berwald above him and Berwald's hand on his forehead, but even through his daze he knew somehow that Berwald wasn't nearby. Couldn't feel him.</p><p>Out of nowhere, then, his vision cleared. The dark receded. He could see again.</p><p>And suddenly there they were.</p><p>Those men.</p><p>Faces he had never thought he'd see again. Brothers. Friends. The only people he had ever wanted to be around and at the same time the people he never wanted to lay eyes on again.</p><p>His friends.</p><p>Just as he had already known, Berwald wasn't there; the hand on his forehead was Lukas'.</p><p>He felt dumbfounded then, completely at a loss for coherent thought, let alone speech, and just focused his eyes and glanced at them all in turn. Even moving his eyes at all hurt his head, as much as breathing was hurting.</p><p>A meeting of eyes, and Lukas was suddenly leaning down, a break of emotion over his face as he smiled enough to show his teeth and crinkle his eyes. A soft, eager, "Ah! Hey. There are you. Thought we lost you."</p><p>From the way he felt, Ludwig wasn't going to deny the fact that they still might. Felt closer to death than life.</p><p>Ludwig tried damn hard to get his brain working, but it was taking a long time, and he turned his eyes over to Timo, who was on his side and propping his head up with his palm.</p><p>Timo smiled at him, but not quite as amicably as Lukas had, and his voice was much lower and less gentle when he said, "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Time to wake up." A lower tone. "Well. If you wanted a break, you know, all you had to do was ask. Didn't have to get shot. I've never in my life had to see a fuckin' operation performed on the goddamn street in the middle of town. Never again. Honest to god, never again. I actually threw up, can you believe it? <em>Me</em>! <em>I</em> threw up. Can't remember the last time. You know the shit I've seen?"</p><p>Lukas murmured, rather drolly, "It was rather...gruesome. I've never seen an artery being clamped and stitched back together—"</p><p>Timo physically shuddered; Ludwig could feel it there above him, and Timo interrupted, spitting crankily, "Stop. Don't. I'm tryin' to forget."</p><p>Ludwig couldn't find his voice or his thoughts, and felt ashamed. Was barely lucid, hardly conscious, and was somehow able to feel that awful surge of shame underneath the daze, strong as it was.</p><p>Embarrassed.</p><p>Everything seemed quiet and awkward, suddenly, or maybe that was just the way his mind was making it seem. Lukas and Timo were smiling, but Ludwig felt so stupid and so humiliated all of a sudden that somehow their smiles only made him feel more shame.</p><p>Red drew his bleary eyes over. Fuzzy crimson, sharpening slowly into a form.</p><p>Magnus.</p><p>Brother.</p><p>Magnus sat in a chair in the corner, straddling it backwards and resting his arms up on the head, and the first thing that was noticeable about him was the sheet-white shade of his skin. Dark circles under his eyes. Cold-sweat on his forehead. Pulse hammering in his neck and shaking hands. He was using the head of the chair as a pillow, chin upon folded arms and staring over at Ludwig blearily. Looked like hell.</p><p>No doubt he and Ludwig looked very similar in that instant.</p><p>Couldn't seem to look over at Timo, but Ludwig opened his mouth and said to Magnus, or tried to say for his rough voice, "What the hell happened to <em>you</em>?"</p><p>Magnus seemed to perk up at the sound of Ludwig's voice, and Lukas' hand on his forehead flew up onto his hair. Timo's smile became real. Ludwig came back to them, and they seemed happy, whatever Ludwig was feeling, and Magnus had lifted up his head to answer Ludwig's question.</p><p>A long, slow incline of Magnus' head, and a weak, crooked smile.</p><p>"You. I got the short straw."</p><p>Lukas interrupted, "Bullshit. He volunteered. Couldn't anybody else even get a word in, since he was already stabbin' the needle in his arm."</p><p>It took a minute for Ludwig's tired mind to get it. Took him a second to understand what they were getting at. Everything had been red.</p><p>Ah. Yeah, that figured.</p><p>He coulda died, not just for the bullet, either, but still he closed his eyes and croaked, weakly, "Oh, man. I got <em>your </em>blood, huh? Of all people. No wonder I feel so shitty."</p><p>Despite the obvious dizziness, Magnus burst into laughter, and buried his face in his folded arms, groaning, "God! Shoulda killed off your sarcasm first before I brought you back to life."</p><p>Ludwig could only lie there, and didn't know what else to say. What could he say? 'Thanks for saving my life, Magnus, but hell, if you hadn't told me the truth I wouldn't'a got shot in the first place.'</p><p>Didn't know what to say.</p><p>Magnus had saved his life. For the next few weeks, Magnus' blood would be running through his veins. How strange. Brothers now more than they had ever been. Connected. Gilbert was gone; Magnus was blood now. Ludwig didn't want it, hadn't wanted it, didn't even want to be here, but he didn't have a choice in the matter and it was already done. Magnus had saved his life, and Ludwig didn't have a choice but to be in his debt, whether he wanted to be or not.</p><p>They all had saved his life, not just Magnus, but all the same Ludwig would eventually leave them behind. Maybe he would try to teach Magnus to shoot, something stupid like that, just to feel like he had accomplished something, and then he would run again.</p><p>Soon, one way or another, another blood brother would be gone.</p><p>So, finally, Ludwig heard himself whisper, "Thanks."</p><p>No answer.</p><p>Magnus just stared at him from over those awful veils of exhaustion, and looked so sad. So distraught.</p><p>Things got quiet.</p><p>Magnus looked up a while later, the smile gone off of his face, and he whispered, "I was sure ya were dead. I kept thinkin'... We didn't know what the hell we were doin', you know? I coulda killed ya, tryin' to save ya. If we weren't the same type, I coulda killed ya. You got so lucky. I—<em>I</em> got lucky."</p><p>An odd trailing off, as if Magnus had something else he wanted to say, but he stopped there, and fell still.</p><p>Timo's hands were on his chest again, and Ludwig squirmed. Why was he so uncomfortable at Timo's touch? He never had been before.</p><p>Oh. Yeah. Ha. Because Berwald loved Timo. That was why. Because those hands were the ones someone else wanted to feel. Berwald loved Timo. Berwald had always loved Timo, because Timo was worth it. He had just been too dumb to see it. Too blinded. Too close to the situation.</p><p>Damn. Just wanted to go back to sleep.</p><p>Timo's hands wouldn't let him.</p><p>Everything was quiet, painfully so in fact, and maybe Timo was far more awkward than he looked, because eventually he stood up, removed his warmth from Ludwig, and took his leave. Lukas followed him. Then it was just Ludwig and Magnus, and Magnus tried hard suddenly to stand up, but only made it a few seconds before he tottered back down, looking dizzy and pale.</p><p>As forced into immobility as Ludwig was.</p><p>Finally, Magnus said what he had wanted to say earlier, and god, Ludwig wished he hadn't lived to hear that damn miserly tone of voice from Magnus, not Magnus, who always tried so hard to be cheerful.</p><p>"I felt so... Thinkin' that you were gonna die, and I gave you such a hard fuckin' <em>time </em>for wanting to fight the Reds, 'cause they're my guys now, like you said, and thinkin' that <em>my </em>guys mighta killed <em>you</em>, when you guys here are the only people that were ever nice to me— I ain't good for anything, you know, but you guys never cared. I couldn't stand to lose any of you. God, if you'd gotten killed 'cause of me, I don't even know. I'm not <em>like </em>you guys. I can't do what you guys do. I know how much it means to all of you, and I know I talk a lot, but I'd stop fightin' if you'd all let me. If just one of you guys would stop, I would too. You're all so brave, you're not afraid of anything, but I get so scared when shit like this happens. Oh, if it ever happens, when it happens, if one of you—"</p><p>He stopped short.</p><p>Magnus couldn't say, 'If one of you dies.'</p><p>Then Magnus looked at Ludwig, and muttered, miserably, "I never wanted anything to happen to you. I'm sorry, I was stupid. I shoulda got it all together first. I shoulda planned it better. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to mess everything up. You gotta believe me. I didn't... It was my fault. My fault that you got shot, that's why <em>I </em>had to do it. I had to. If you hadn't woken up, I don't even know what I would have done. I owed you that. We're even. Right? Please, tell me we're even. Don't hate me. I'm so sorry, you don't know."</p><p>Not Magnus' fault. His own, for being brash and stupid like he always was.</p><p>Not like you guys? Didn't Magnus understand that Ludwig felt that way, too? He hadn't ever wanted to fight in this war, hadn't ever wanted to be here anymore than Magnus did. He and Magnus were the most alike. Neither one of them really felt like they belonged.</p><p>And if Berwald ever by some miracle said he wanted to stop, Ludwig woulda stopped.</p><p>...would have. Didn't matter anymore.</p><p>Maybe he and Magnus should just go their own ways. Set off and see what happened.</p><p>Timo wouldn't ever stop, and if Berwald was following Timo, then what was the point? He and Magnus shoulda just gone off back to Sweden or somewhere and see what they could find. Neither of them seemed to be too useful out here. All they did was get others into messes. All they ever did was cause trouble and rile everyone up. They would get someone other than themselves killed, eventually. Ludwig might have been the one to bring down Lukas, inadvertently, and one day Magnus would get Timo killed.</p><p>They should go.</p><p>Wanted to say it, too, and when he reached out with clammy fingers to grab a hold of Magnus' sleeve, he opened his mouth.</p><p>Didn't get a chance; Lukas had come back into the door, and Ludwig fell still. Wouldn't say it in front of the others. Could only wait to get Magnus alone after he healed up, perhaps, and ask him if he wanted to join Ludwig on his next desperado run. Magnus shouldn't be here, either.</p><p>Lukas hauled Magnus upright with a grunt, carted him along and out of sight, no doubt to throw him back in his own bed, and just when Ludwig thought his suffering was over and he was alone, Lukas came right back.</p><p>Hovered over him, staring at him in that unnerving manner, and Ludwig shifted anxiously.</p><p>Why couldn't they just let him be alone for a while?</p><p>Saw Lukas' black eye, then, and wondered if maybe his foolishness had harmed the others in some way. Wouldn't surprise him.</p><p>The first thing Lukas said to him, when they were alone, was a quick, rather brutal, "You're really stupid, you know? You're really, really, really stupid." The words might have stung a little more if Lukas' hadn't said them with that lopsided smile he gave when he was content, and added, "I'm surprised you even lived to see your fifteenth birthday, you're so dumb. How'd a guy like you ever make it this long without dying, huh? I don't get it. You got some kinda luck."</p><p>And, well. Lukas was right, so Ludwig snorted, tried his damn best to smile, and somehow wound up groaning into his hand in an odd mixture of elation and misery, before muttering, with a gesture towards Lukas' bruises, "Likewise."</p><p>The same could be said of Lukas and he knew it, and then Lukas reached out and put his palm down yet again on the top of Ludwig's messy, dirty hair.</p><p>A more honest, "I'm glad you're alive, though. I guess."</p><p>Couldn't really say, 'me too', so instead Ludwig whispered, "Thanks."</p><p>And Lukas, sharp as anything, caught that, too.</p><p>A whisper.</p><p>"Well. Can't die yet. Think you owe Magnus one first. Pay that off before you try something stupid again."</p><p>Goddamn. Lukas had a point, and he knew it, and he hated Lukas for it. Hated that guilt. That shame.</p><p>He turned his head away, embarrassed, and tried to change the subject with a gruff, "So what happened to <em>you</em>?"</p><p>Didn't work as well as he had thought it would, because Lukas said, "Magnus and I had a little disagreement about you, is all."</p><p>Hadn't expected that, hadn't expected that Magnus and Lukas would ever physically fight. Timo and Lukas had seemed so much more likely to get into it these days, the way they had been tiptoeing around each other. The way Timo punched.</p><p>Breezily, Lukas carried on, with a matter-of-fact voice, "He didn't wanna wait to see if we could figure out what kinda type you were. I was a little scared, to be honest. Coulda killed ya, you know, him not wanting to wait and check, and I wouldn't let him do it so he clocked me one and did it anyway, but hell. Guess it's good he didn't wait. Don't think you woulda lasted until then. We got lucky."</p><p>Didn't feel so lucky. Felt sick still.</p><p>A stillness, and then Lukas' voice was ever lower as he said, in a bit of a chide, "I know you're still a kid, but maybe think about things a little better next time, hm? Work on that anger, a little bit. You're too impulsive."</p><p>Oh, that miserable shame he felt.</p><p>Lukas was right to shame him, too, because it had been Lukas after all that had been with Ludwig as he had been too proud in that forest and had gotten lost for it, and now Lukas had seen a second instance of Ludwig acting before thinking.</p><p>When Ludwig was silent, Lukas reached down and squeezed his shoulder, gently.</p><p>"Rest, now. Don't move around. You're not out of the woods yet. I'd hate to go through all of this trouble and then lose you. Don't even think about giving up, alright? I mean it. I'm watching you."</p><p>Lukas always was in some way, it seemed. The way Lukas was, it sometimes felt like he just materialized from shadows and was always hovering around even when he wasn't in the room.</p><p>What could Ludwig say to him, really? That he didn't plan on lying back and giving up and dying, but only because he owed Magnus? Couldn't say that, although Lukas already had. Couldn't admit that he would focus on recovering and pulling through, but only so that he could screw his head on and then run again.</p><p>Was it possible to die of humiliation? Guess not; he was still alive by the time Lukas left him alone a bit later.</p><p>Alone.</p><p>Time crept along, stuck in bed like that and hanging in death's door.</p><p>One person was absent.</p><p>Berwald still didn't show his face. Ludwig wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry. Maybe it was for the best, the more he thought about it. What would he even say?</p><p>'Thanks for coming and saving me, but I wish you hadn't.'</p><p>'Why didn't you tell me?'</p><p>'Sorry you can't have who you want, but I don't want to be a surrogate.'</p><p>Stupid.</p><p>Couldn't even look at Berwald. Wouldn't be able to talk to him. Anyway, Berwald probably wasn't coming because he knew he had been had and there was no longer any point. Ludwig wouldn't give him what he wanted anymore, so why bother with half-assed visitations?</p><p>Oh, how long would it be before he could walk? Had to get the hell out of here.</p><p>As he had years ago, all he could do was stay in bed and wait for another chance to escape.</p><p>Harder this time around; that time he hadn't been this bad off, not this bad, even after all of that. It would take him so much longer to get back on his feet after that bullet, and who knew how long he would be trapped here, having to avoid Timo's gaze and suffer Lukas' attention and silently grovel at Magnus' feet and pray that Berwald never showed his face and try not to die of humiliation in the meanwhile.</p><p>So embarrassed over the whole damn thing.</p><p>Oh, <em>Timo</em>—</p><p>Just wanted to pin this whole thing on Timo and call it a day, and couldn't have that either. Hated being only able to blame himself. Felt so much worse. Timo was Ludwig's favorite person, and was the one causing him the most strife, in every possible way. Timo had been the one man here that truly aligned with him, with every sentiment and every goal. Could always rely on Timo, could always turn to Timo, because he knew that no matter what Timo would always have his back, because they were <em>all</em> brothers, but he and Timo were countrymen in a sense. The closest they could get, and for that having Timo be the cause of this pain just made it so much worse.</p><p>Loved that miserable, cranky, temperamental, crass, charming bastard, so much, and couldn't wait to never see him again.</p><p>Couldn't wait to never see any of them again, come to think.</p><p>Wished he coulda told them all that, too, as they hovered over him.</p><p>They were so patient those days in the hospital, so quiet and so careful, and finally it was Timo, as always, that said to Ludwig, "We're gonna sit down and have a talk together, all of us, but only when you're better, alright? When they let you go, when we can take you home, we'll talk. Until then, just rest. Don't worry about anything else but getting better."</p><p>Talk. Didn't wanna talk, because there was nothing anyone could have really said that wasn't entirely demoralizing. Nothing could ever be said that would have made Ludwig feel like he hadn't proven himself to be the biggest failure in the history of freedom fighting. Nothing could ever be said that would make him feel less hurt, less pathetic, less ashamed, less guilty.</p><p>He'd been nothing but trouble for these men, since the very first day they had had the misfortune to encounter each other.</p><p>They had to have lost all respect for him. All admiration. Back to square one. Anything he had ever done with them must have seemed meaningless now, after all of this. How could they ever take him seriously again? How could they ever trust him with anything?</p><p>Couldn't, they couldn't ever trust him again, so he had to go, as soon as he could.</p><p>Felt so sick.</p><p>No talk they could ever have together would fix things. Wouldn't erase it, and above all else it wouldn't make the Finns in town forget. Timo's guys were integral to what role Ludwig played in this land, in this war, and if Timo's guys wouldn't accept Ludwig in their group anymore then his time was over.</p><p>Who was he kidding? Had been over the minute he had taken that car.</p><p>Time dragged in a merciless lurch, as faces came and went. Awaking sometimes to hands upon him, checking his temperature and pulse.</p><p>He had awoken to Timo's hands upon him, but the only hands he had ever really wanted were Berwald's.</p><p>He counted down the minutes.</p><p>Days passed before Ludwig finally saw Berwald, although he could never have accurately said how many.</p><p>Ludwig briefly wondered what the big oaf had been doing, and then promptly realized he didn't really care too much. Would rather not have seen him at all. He just looked up one dreary day, through that exhausted daze, and saw Berwald standing there in the frame. Ludwig felt his mouth open, but he thought better of speaking, and abruptly turned his eyes back straight ahead.</p><p>Took Berwald a long time to step through the door.</p><p>Ludwig wished he hadn't.</p><p>Berwald's appearance was a little more haggard than Ludwig had expected. Hadn't been sleeping much, that was obvious right off. Looked strangely vulnerable in that instant, his hair sticking out all over the place, his clothes as wrinkled as could be, skin pale and wan, cheeks dark with stubble, and even his glasses were crooked upon his equally crooked nose.</p><p>Berwald looked like he had just crawled up out of that ravine that Ludwig had nearly stepped into.</p><p>Still damn handsome, though, in Ludwig's eyes, and Ludwig hated him for that.</p><p>When Berwald finally opened his mouth and spoke, the first thing he said was, "Why did you leave?"</p><p>Or, at least, that was what Ludwig thought he had said.</p><p>Days of not sleeping and stress and apparently being half-dead had taken their toll on Berwald's speech, and his bad German went from just bad to downright horrible. Nearly incomprehensible. As if, in some way, Berwald just didn't even care enough anymore to even try to form actual words and was just making them up as he went along.</p><p>To be perfectly honest, Ludwig wasn't actually sure what Berwald had said, and so he just turned his head away, and tried not to let that hurt creep up. Should have been the bullet-hole that hurt the worst, that stung, that made his chest ache, but he was pretty sure that it was something else.</p><p>Berwald. Loved that man so much. Letting him go hurt. Letting Berwald go. Neither of them would be happy; Berwald wanted Timo, and Timo wanted Magnus. Ludwig wanted Berwald, and Berwald wanted Timo. How sad.</p><p>Berwald took another wobbly step forward, reaching out to grab the chair for balance, and he unsteadily sat himself down. And then he just sat there, sat there, silently, and stared at him.</p><p>For hours.</p><p>What the hell was he so upset about, anyway? After all, Timo was still safe and sound.</p><p>Bitterness, more than anything, was what he felt then. Not anger, not hate, nothing like that. Wasn't sure that he could ever have felt those for Berwald, not Berwald. Couldn't even have that, because the bastard had never lied to him. Couldn't hate him. Just felt a rather dull sense of distaste. Resignation.</p><p>Berwald had never lied; had never said anything at all.</p><p>They sat there in silence until nightfall, when Lukas came to collect Berwald and drag him away, to Ludwig's great relief.</p><p>That was the only time Berwald came.</p><p>It may have been three weeks later that they finally let him out of that tiny hospital. Had stopped counting days, and they really only let him go because there was such limited room and so few supplies. Other men needed it, and so now that Ludwig wasn't immediately dying he was shoved out of the door and left to his own devices. Just slapped him on the back and said, 'Good luck!'</p><p>Timo had no doubt been the reason they had even kept him that long, and Timo looked cranky and foul when they discharged Ludwig, and he muttered to Ludwig, as they picked him up, "Shoulda just risked trying to take you down to Helsinki. At least they'd'a kept you 'til you weren't half-dead."</p><p>A little late for that.</p><p>Couldn't even walk yet, so Timo and Magnus picked him carefully up under either arm and literally carried him home.</p><p>Ah—! Could it possibly get any worse? Was there no end to the shame?</p><p>As soon as they dragged Ludwig through the door and put him in bed, Ludwig quite literally crawled under the blanket and burrowed away. Couldn't even look at them.</p><p>And there he stayed, for days.</p><p>Must have been obvious to them how he felt, because they avoided him unless it was necessary, and sometimes Ludwig could hear that Berwald had opened the door and was trying to come in, but someone always grabbed him and hauled him back out with low words.</p><p>The humiliation truly was unbearable. Disgraceful.</p><p>The longest days of his life, he swore it, huddled up there under those blankets and trying so hard to vanish from the world entirely. Counting down every second until he could stand up and then get the hell out of here, but this time with a much clearer head.</p><p>Timo had promised they would have a 'talk', but so far there was only silence, but likely because Ludwig was ever huddled up under his fortress of blankets and pillows. Lukas must have been sleeping on the couch or with Berwald, because he never came in except to change his clothes, and in those moments he didn't say a word. The only interaction Ludwig received those days was when Lukas yanked the blanket back temporarily every morning to make sure that Ludwig was still actually alive.</p><p>Sometimes, he didn't even do that, choosing instead to poke at Ludwig gently through the blanket, relying on Ludwig's irritated swatting to alert him to life beneath blanket mountain.</p><p>Ludwig huddled there in that stale daze and wondered, dumbly, if he would even actually survive if he ran again. He was still clinging to life rather weakly, and there was absolutely no guarantee that he wouldn't just take a turn for the worse at any given moment.</p><p>A mercy, at this rate.</p><p>Late at night, when everyone else was asleep, Ludwig stood up and tried walking. He paced, as far as he could, and had passed out on four separate occasions upon standing.</p><p>Still, he pushed on, spurred on relentlessly by damaged pride and the flight response.</p><p>And still, no one made a conversation with him, and maybe in a way he grateful for that. Maybe they were waiting until he was better, until he wasn't cold sweating and pale and half-dead. Maybe they were afraid that having their 'talk' would literally make Ludwig drop dead, and for some reason they seemed to be striving hard to avoid that.</p><p>Glad they waited, because the time had finally come, one cloudy night.</p><p>When he was finally able to stand up without passing out on a consistent basis, two long weeks after coming home, Ludwig figured that was good enough, slowly got dressed and grabbed his bag, and tried to make for the door. Didn't know where he was going. Anywhere but here, really, and he planned on just walking off along the road until he reached the next town, and just winging it from there. Getting the hell out of Soviet Finland and into sovereign Finland for starters.</p><p>Wasn't exactly stealthy about it though, clumsy and unsteady as he was, and didn't get more than a few steps before Berwald was on him. Must have been camping outside the door this whole time. Came out of nowhere, it seemed. Materialized right out of the shadows.</p><p>Startled the hell out of him, to look up and see huge Berwald lumbering towards him in the dark. Hadn't seen him in all this time, in over a month, and it was enough to cause Ludwig to stagger to a halt there in the hall.</p><p>Berwald; how odd. Like seeing a phantom.</p><p>Honestly, Ludwig could have easily escaped Berwald, because if Ludwig was unsteady and dizzy and uncoordinated, then Berwald was practically just a tottering broomstick, feet dragging along and sometimes leaning so far forward that Ludwig thought he was going to plant face-first into the floor. Berwald was graceless by nature, but had never walked like that.</p><p>When Berwald opened his mouth to speak to Ludwig, he started speaking in Swedish. As if Berwald weren't really there at all in his head and was functioning entirely on instincts.</p><p>Felt so damn miserable and disheartened by that that Ludwig just fell still there by the stairs and let Berwald catch up to him. Why? He just wanted to leave, so why did he stop? His feet felt so heavy.</p><p>Berwald stopped before him, swaying as he was, and kept on blabbering away lowly in Swedish. Ludwig finally had to say, as his shoulders slumped in defeat, "I can't understand you, Berwald."</p><p>A long silence, as Berwald trailed off and fell still. Looked so lost. And Ludwig only felt worse when Berwald suddenly sucked in a great breath, squinted his eyes, hung his head, and looked an absolute twitch away from bursting into tears. Had never seen him like that, and it was the most pitiful thing Ludwig had ever seen, it really was.</p><p>Ludwig looked Berwald up and down, and realized what an absolute wreck Berwald was. Ludwig was the one half-dead, and yet somehow Berwald looked worse than he did. Looked as if he had stopped caring about everything. His clothes were wrinkled and mismatched, he hadn't bothered shaving in probably weeks, his hair was messy and tangled, longer than usual. His glasses were barely on his face, hanging off the bridge of his nose haphazardly.</p><p>A long, awful silence as Berwald attempted to compose himself and find a shred of clarity.</p><p>When Berwald finally found his voice again, after what was clearly a very intense mental struggle, he spoke in German, but only barely.</p><p>"What're ya doin'?" he asked, coming up and grabbing Ludwig by the arm. "Yer not supposed to be walkin'. What're ya doin'? Go lay down. Yer gonna hurt yourself."</p><p>Could hardly even understand at all what Berwald had said to him, because his German was so mangled suddenly, hardly comprehensible, as if forming words in anything other than Swedish was just too great a task for his shattered mind.</p><p>Ludwig just stood there and stared at him, still caught in that awful immobility. He felt like he stood there forever, Berwald's hand on his arm.</p><p>Couldn't stand it. The feel of it.</p><p>Somehow, he found enough strength to shake Berwald off, and say, as sternly as he could, "Don't touch me."</p><p>If Berwald was still then, as Ludwig took a few more wobbly steps, then it was likely only because he was too damn confused to really understand what Ludwig had said.</p><p>Berwald came after him again quick enough, and once more grabbed his arm. Irritation and anger began rising, and Ludwig once more shook himself loose.</p><p>Still, Berwald just didn't seem to <em>get </em>it, didn't seem to comprehend, and said once more, "Go lay down before ya hurt yourself."</p><p>Ludwig scoffed, and turned aside.</p><p>Berwald not getting it—story of his life. Had never gotten anything, the great big idiot, not a damn thing, and so here they were.</p><p>Ludwig took another shaky step to the door, and once more Berwald reached out to grab his arm.</p><p>This time, Ludwig twisted and shoved him back, Berwald stumbled a few paces and caught himself on the side of the staircase, and Ludwig made his voice harsh and deep when he said, "Get away from me! I'm leaving. Don't bother coming after me this time. I mean it. I'm gone. Good luck. All of you. But I can't stay. So—! Bye."</p><p>He turned and meant to flee, coward that he really was, and was actually shocked when Berwald disobeyed him and once more grabbed his arm before he could get to the door. This time, the grip was tight, painful, and Berwald wasn't easily shaken off.</p><p>Ludwig lifted his eyes then and finally gathered the nerve to truly meet Berwald's gaze, firm and strong, for the first time since he had learned that Berwald was in love with someone else.</p><p>And all he saw there was hurt.</p><p>Berwald's barely-comprehensible words were low. Dreary.</p><p>"Ya don't have to <em>go</em>. Ya don't, you can stay, just..."</p><p>Berwald trailed off, brow crinkled in confusion and looking dazed and lost, and Ludwig eventually pried himself yet again out of Berwald's grasp.</p><p>Felt awful, so Ludwig hammered the point home by reaching out to the corner and grabbing up his forlorn rifle. The point was clear :</p><p>'I'm leaving. For good.'</p><p>And that point must not have sat very well with Berwald, because the very second Ludwig had taken that rifle into his hands, it was as if the gates of the abyss had opened up there within Berwald and all of that confusion was replaced by rage.</p><p>Berwald's voice went high, nearly a shriek that was cracking with the effort, extremely terrifying, and Ludwig was actually rather glad that he didn't know what the hell Berwald was saying when he screamed at him then, as he had once more slipped into Swedish. Berwald reached out and ripped the rifle right out of Ludwig's hands, slamming it into the staircase and bringing it down upon the railing.</p><p>The hairs on his arms had stood up, at the sound of Berwald's voice.</p><p>The rifle hit the staircase with enough force that it broke neatly in two, the wooden handle flying across the hall as it dislodged from the steel. The glass in the scope cracked.</p><p>That rifle. Berwald had loved that rifle. Always had. Berwald's favorite.</p><p>Berwald's rifle. Ludwig's rifle. But not theirs. His or Berwald's. One or the other. Couldn't be both. They didn't have anything together. Not together.</p><p>...not theirs.</p><p>They weren't together. Never had been. There had never been any 'together' except for what he had created in his head.</p><p>Heavy steps suddenly on the stairs, and Timo came bounding down, messy-haired and wide-eyed and very clearly on the warpath at all of the commotion, thinking Ludwig was escaping. Behind him trailed a terrified looking Magnus.</p><p>When Timo saw that Ludwig had already been wrangled, sort of, he spoke to Berwald, low words, Berwald responded, and Timo reluctantly went back upstairs, pushing Magnus along, as Berwald no doubt told him the situation was under control although it was nowhere near finished.</p><p>Ludwig wasn't conceding that easily.</p><p>From the look on Berwald's face, however, when he suddenly marched on Ludwig, Ludwig was fairly certain he was about to meet the very same fate as that rifle.</p><p>Not too far off; Berwald took the bag from his hand, threw it aside, and then he grabbed Ludwig's collar up in his hands and pushed him back until he had slammed him up against the door that Ludwig had been trying so hard to reach. Violently slammed, actually, so hard that the wind was knocked out of him and dizziness came immediately up, and from the sudden warmth leaking down his chest he knew that his wound had reopened.</p><p>The world went black, the dots of light came back to dance across his vision, as Berwald throttled him there and tried very hard to shake what little life was left right out of him.</p><p>Berwald was giving him a very furious tongue-lashing then, no doubt, but the stupid son of a bitch was still yammering away in Swedish, and when Ludwig's vision cleared and his senses returned, however dully, he grabbed Berwald's wrists and shouted back, "Shut <em>up</em>! You wanna talk, huh? Let go of me! I'm so sick of you, I really am! Get offa me, and if you wanna talk then fuckin' do it where I can understand you!"</p><p>Berwald had not, in fact, shut up as Ludwig yelled back at him, and really they didn't accomplish too much then, screaming at each other in different languages and both too angry and dazed to really even know what the hell was actually going on.</p><p>But then Berwald gave him another slam, forcing him into silence again, and finally managed to scrounge up enough brainpower to find his bad German.</p><p>"So talk then! Ya always say <em>I </em>can't talk, and I know I can't, but <em>you</em> don't either! You never say anything either, do ya? Ya just run away! So talk! Why d'ya keep doin' this? Where're ya goin' <em>now</em>?"</p><p>Ludwig filled in the blanks to Berwald's mangled speech, pieced the words together in his head, and tried to wriggle out of Berwald's clutches only to fail miserably. Couldn't get away from Berwald on a good day, let alone like this.</p><p>It was true, yeah, and that was why he tried to escape then, because actually sitting down and <em>talking </em>seemed to be too hard for either of them. Childish, foolish, but that was just how they were.</p><p>Frustration was overwhelming when he just couldn't get free, and he heard himself utter, in a pitiful rumble that was hardly audible, "What do you <em>want</em>? Just let me go. What am I even doing here? I don't belong with you guys. I never did. I never had anything to fight for. Let me leave. You don't need me."</p><p>They accomplished nothing, and they never had. On opposites sides they stood, held together only by thin friendship. They had different ideals and different goals, different beliefs, and in the end they didn't matter to the world at all.</p><p>This stupid little group had only ever caused Ludwig strife, however much he loved them.</p><p>Berwald didn't need Ludwig, never had, anymore than the world needed Berwald.</p><p>Folly, all of it, and they just went along with it because it was better than sitting still and just waiting to see what would happen. Ludwig had stayed for Berwald, because being in love felt better, but there was no more point in staying now that that was gone.</p><p>Berwald shook his head, although his grip didn't slacken, and he said, so much more gently, "I <em>do</em> need ya. We all do. Ya can't <em>go</em>. Timo would—"</p><p>Hearing Timo's name coming from Berwald then reminded him quite harshly of how they had gotten here, and Ludwig struggled again, breaking Berwald off and forcing him to replant his feet and brace himself once more.</p><p>Another slam for good measure.</p><p>Damn—it was gonna be Berwald that actually killed him at this rate, and that time it was a bit too much, and Ludwig blacked out for a moment.</p><p>Ringing in his ears.</p><p>A hand pressed into his chest suddenly, and when the darkness had gone, Ludwig realized that he was slouched against the wall, sitting on the floor, and Berwald's palm was pushing against his wound.</p><p>Red.</p><p>Berwald tried to stop the bleeding he had started, staring at Ludwig as if Ludwig had somehow been the one to shoot <em>him</em>, and when Berwald spoke again Ludwig couldn't really hear him at first, so low was his tone and the ringing in his ears too loud.</p><p>"Ya can't go. If ya... Please. Stay. Ya don't haveta fight. I know I said it—but just stay. Stay here. Ya don't haveta fight, really, if ya don't wanna. Just <em>stay</em>."</p><p>Why? For what? For whom? Just sit here all day, every day, contributing nothing and hiding away from the world? Was that what Berwald was saying? How stupid! The others would never accept that, never, and especially Timo, whose passion was boundless and very overwhelming. If Ludwig ever said he didn't want to fight anymore, Timo would have never forgiven him and would have immediately cast him out.</p><p>Ludwig fought off the spinning stars long enough to grumble, bitterly, "Some leader <em>you </em>are."</p><p>Far from hurt, Berwald gave a very odd, breathless smile, almost hopeful in some way, and he quickly replied, "I'm not the leader. I never was. It's just— We talked about it, when ya were out. Timo's the leader now. He always was. He just has the title now. I was never the leader, really. Everyone always followed Timo."</p><p>Yeah.</p><p>Everyone sure did, and Ludwig tried so hard to meet Berwald's eyes then, knowing that his face was ever falling.</p><p>That didn't change anything at all, it really didn't, because, like Berwald had said, it had always been that way, and Timo taking an official stance, verbally taking command, was only a formality. Timo had always been the leader, love-struck Berwald merely trailing behind him in a daze.</p><p>Ludwig said, again, "Let me go."</p><p>Berwald just shook his head, looking so defeated suddenly, and he muttered, in the most pathetic voice Ludwig had ever heard, "Why d'ya leave, huh? I don't understand. Why couldn't ya've just talked to me? I don't understand. I don't. I thought you loved me, I did, and no one's ever... You can't go. Please, please, say somethin', I can't... I can't stand it. Talk to me, do what you want, but please don't go. Stay. Ya don't haveta fight. Just stay."</p><p>So hard to understand Berwald's slurred speech.</p><p>Just wanted to go back to sleep, suddenly.</p><p>All Ludwig could think of to say then was a very dreary, "I'm sorry. I know I kinda look like him, and I know you want that, but I can't stay. I want to be with you, but not like that. Sorry. I can't. I owe you guys so much, but I can't give you that. I can't keep letting you pretend that I'm him."</p><p>The stupidest thing to ever come out of his mouth, and by far the most embarrassing.</p><p>Berwald's brow scrunched up, as if he were trying to understand what Ludwig had said, shaking his head a bit to himself, and then he just rather sort of collapsed a bit. Slumped. He let go of Ludwig's collar, withdrew the hand covering the wound, and the next thing Ludwig really knew, Berwald had fallen backwards onto his haunches and Ludwig was clenched up against his chest.</p><p>Utter exhaustion was the only reason Ludwig lied there placidly still in Berwald's arms, face pressed into Berwald's chest as Berwald buried his face in Ludwig's hair.</p><p>Felt so damn good to be in Berwald's arms again, and that was rather unfair.</p><p>Berwald started speaking suddenly, and the voice that came out of Berwald's mouth, then—nothing quite like it. A rather sensational thing. Low and almost breathless, hardly a whisper, as if Berwald's rough voice had gotten so low that it had been forced upward by his chest rather than his throat. Half of whatever he was saying was lost to the atmosphere. In a way, the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, that tone. Berwald's words might not have made sense anymore, once more in that instinctive Swedish, but they didn't really need to; not when used in that voice.</p><p>Almost reminded Ludwig of those days in childhood, when Gilbert had hunkered down in bed with him and told him a story to get him to sleep.</p><p>That voice. Love, in audible form.</p><p>That was the voice that had brought him back from the edge of that abyss. Had it really been Gilbert? Not so sure anymore. Maybe that voice he had been desperate to hear had been there all along.</p><p>Long minutes of Berwald murmuring away in his ear, the most that silent Berwald had ever spoken in all these years put together no doubt. Didn't know if Berwald was lucid and comprehensible even to himself in that moment. Seemed rather dreamlike, a bit out of it.</p><p>It was in that moment that Ludwig realized he was done for. He caved in, just hearing that voice. Submitted. Couldn't have left Berwald then even if he had been physically fit for the challenge. Could never have turned away after hearing that voice.</p><p>Berwald had ruined him.</p><p>Ludwig reached up, clung to Berwald's collar, and collapsed against him. How had this man ever turned him into such a mess?</p><p>Eventually, Berwald seemed to calm back down enough to form sentences in mostly-coherent German again, he sat them upright, Ludwig on his knees between Berwald's splayed legs, and Berwald's bloody hand had fallen back down to the wound on Ludwig's chest. Pressure returned.</p><p>"You're crazy, ya know," Berwald suddenly griped. "Crazy. Never met someone as crazy as you. Not ever. And I really love ya for it. Please don't go. I love ya. How could ya have thought I didn't? I'm sorry. I shoulda said it, maybe. What else do ya want me to say?"</p><p>Pale and trembling, Ludwig still tried his best to give Berwald the old crooked smile. He <em>was </em>kinda crazy. Always had been, just a little. Berwald didn't help matters much, because if Ludwig felt crazy on a good day, then when Berwald was around him he felt pretty damn insane.</p><p>Trickling blood through Berwald's fingers.</p><p>Wasn't sure if he was dizzy then because of the gunshot or because he was in love. Both, maybe.</p><p>"Please stay," Berwald beseeched again.</p><p>Only Berwald had really been able to make him smile like that.</p><p>So, Ludwig spoke up, and asked, "Do you want me to stay?"</p><p>Just wanted Berwald to say it. Wanted all of this running around to end. No more dancing; just straight answers. Wanted Berwald to put his foot down, and settle it. Wanted to hear it. Wanted Berwald to open his mouth and tell Ludwig what was what. Wanted Berwald to be stern with him. Wanted Berwald to put him in place.</p><p>He did.</p><p>This time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing. No choking. Clumsy Berwald knew what he wanted to say, and said it.</p><p>"Stay."</p><p>Not a question, not an option, not a suggestion. A command, stern and firm. Berwald ordered him to stay.</p><p>Stay.</p><p>And this time, Ludwig obeyed. He stayed.</p><p>Berwald pressed forward and kissed him, and suddenly, they were 'they'. Ludwig would stay put, and paid them all what he owed as best he could.</p><p>Berwald sat there and kissed him for a long time, and when he pulled back, the first thing Ludwig said to him was, "You owe me a new rifle."</p><p>His way of saying that he would carry on with them, and Berwald's smile was rather muted. Kinda sad. Wondered if maybe Berwald was tired and ready to go home, now that he had been deposed as leader.</p><p>Timo came down shortly after yet again, to check in surely and make sure that Ludwig hadn't evaded Berwald in one way or another. When he saw that Ludwig had been indeed contained, and in what manner, his arms fell lax at his sides, he shook his head, and then he muttered, roughly, "Guess we don't need the talk anymore. Ha—we're all gonna get ourselves killed."</p><p>With that rather morbid prediction, Timo tromped back upstairs and left them alone.</p><p>Yeah, they probably would all die, before it was said and done.</p><p>Love made men so stupid, and they were no exception. Disaster after disaster they had encountered and evaded, brought upon them by their own foolishness and inability to control emotion.</p><p>How much longer would their luck hold?</p><p>Love ran the world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The Long Black Veil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 21</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>The Long Black Veil </strong>
</p><p>The others left them alone a lot lately.</p><p>Berwald was grateful.</p><p>Timo and Lukas, rather, because somehow Berwald hadn't even seen Magnus' face yet, since then. Magnus was either too ashamed or too uncomfortable to see Berwald, and the feeling was very mutual. Magnus had dropped off of the face of the Earth, and Berwald wished soon that he could do the same, because the atmosphere those days was unbearable.</p><p>The entire situation was humiliating, it really was, absolutely shameful and embarrassing, and the glances between all of them were incredibly awkward. Lukas, particularly, seemed very annoyed to be in a room with any single one of them.</p><p>They were lectured by Lukas quite frequently, if not indirectly. Little jabs here and there, little chides and snide remarks. In the mornings, sometimes, over breakfast, Lukas would lift his coffee up and say, in a condescending drawl, 'Are we going to work today or is school in?'</p><p>Like they were children.</p><p>Berwald couldn't blame him, because he admittedly felt more than a little childish, and surely Ludwig felt the worst of them all. Ludwig spent most of his time as hidden away as Magnus, apparently too ashamed to show his face and huddled up under his blankets of security.</p><p>Well. They were grown men, all of 'em, but maybe that only made them more susceptible to acting like children. They were only men in love, and men in love had an historical predisposition to cause havoc. Lukas, fan of mythology that he was, should have known that better than the rest.</p><p>Emotions were too powerful to ignore for them, even in the middle of a war. Love seemed so much stronger than all else, more potent, and it was hard to keep a clear head.</p><p>It was embarrassing to stand there as a thirty-year old man and say that he had gotten himself twisted into some kind of horrible love square in the middle of a world war and while behind enemy lines, but Berwald had to say it all the same. Could only imagine how Ludwig felt, having to stand there as a soldier and say that he had run away and gotten himself shot because the man he was in love with had been lookin' at someone else.</p><p>They had always been pretty pathetic.</p><p>Eventually, Lukas might have finally started to accept that, or maybe Lukas just felt bad that Ludwig was hiding away in mortification, because he eventually shut his mouth and stopped bitching at them all.</p><p>A long, tense period that they had to pass in as they struggled to regain their footing and figure out where to go.</p><p>With Ludwig out of commission for who knew how long, Timo's one true partner was gone, and he wasn't too happy about it. Berwald hoped that maybe it would get Timo to stay still for a while, to have a breather, but he had always known that that was wishful thinking. Timo loved Ludwig, did he ever, but Timo loved Finland above all else, always had, and that was no secret to any of them.</p><p>Berwald didn't go out anymore, not with Ludwig injured.</p><p>Timo taking official control of the group had its pros and cons. It had been a formality, yeah, but it was still a bit tense for them, to now be under the command of a man who was no longer neutral. Berwald had gone back and forth, and calling him 'leader' had been just enough to keep the line firmly drawn. Putting passionate and aggressive Timo in charge could get a little rough, when there was absolutely no doubt where Timo's loyalties lied and Lukas and Magnus could no longer rely on Berwald to hold him in check. But they had agreed, all of them, so they only lied in their own beds.</p><p>Ah, hell—as if Berwald had ever been able to keep Timo in check, anyway. Timo did whatever the hell he wanted, and always had. If Lukas and Magnus ever had too much of a problem with that, then they would just leave, and that was all there was to it. They were straddling the border between Soviet Finland and free Finland; it wouldn't have been a very great effort for Magnus and Lukas to just go to the other side and stay there. They went there every time they set out on their little missions. Berwald honestly had it in his head that one day they would just go out and not come back.</p><p>Ludwig, in the meanwhile, lied in bed and recuperated, Berwald always hidden under the blankets with him. Stupid, yeah, hidden away under their little blanket fort and staring at each other, but kinda nice, in a childish way. All the grief and pain they had survived; they deserved this little break from reality.</p><p>Berwald had never once really been a child, and had never felt like one until he had met Ludwig.</p><p>So they hunkered down for the long haul, whispering to each other, and sometimes Timo would come in, go to the foot of the bed, lift the blanket up and peer at them from beneath their feet, smile wide and more of a leer.</p><p>He usually left quickly enough when Berwald tried to kick his face.</p><p>Other times Lukas came in, just to be nosy, as he had switched bedrooms with Berwald to make it easier for everyone.</p><p>So far, Magnus was radio silence.</p><p>When Ludwig was stronger, less wan, he started staying out in the kitchen more, in the living room, trying to catch fresher air, and everyone seemed pretty happy to have him amongst the living again.</p><p>One morning, Timo said to him, offhandedly, "We're gonna have to feed you really well to get you healed up. I need you back out with me as soon as possible. Sure do miss that shot of yours."</p><p>Berwald shifted a bit, and remembered that he still needed to procure Ludwig a new rifle.</p><p>Ludwig lowered his eyes, scoffed, and grumbled, "I'd go with you again, I would, but— Your guys are never gonna trust me again. They won't work with me anymore."</p><p>Timo barked a laugh, reached out and clapped Ludwig hard on the back, and gasped a bit when Ludwig stifled a cry.</p><p>"Sorry! Ah! I forget. What I was gonna say was, hell yeah they'll work with you. They think you're a fuckin' crazy son of a bitch. They think you're the stupidest brave man there is. They love it. They loved you from the moment you were shootin' at 'em. The stupider you are the more they love you. So don't worry about them. I think it makes us more confident. We get to look over at <em>you </em>and realize we're not so bad off. We know it could always be worse."</p><p>Ludwig glared at Timo, and grumbled, "Thanks, asshole."</p><p>"No problem, ya bastard."</p><p>Timo pressed down, kissed the top of Ludwig hair, ruffled it, and was off for the day, leaving Ludwig to mutter under his breath. Berwald could see, though, how relieved he actually was, realizing maybe he hadn't been cast out after all.</p><p>Maybe, but Ludwig wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and Berwald was more than happy to pick him up like a damsel and cart him back off to bed when he felt that Ludwig had been out and about for too long. Ludwig just rolled his eyes, but let him do as he pleased. The second the door shut behind them, though, Ludwig changed tune very quickly and wrapped arms around Berwald's neck, snuggling up against his chest and quite content to be held there like a doll. Berwald was happy to oblige, and usually walked around in circles for a while.</p><p>Stupid things were the best, sometimes.</p><p>Those days were fascinating, in a way, more so because of the horrible blur of the weeks before. After that sensation of drowning, of nothingness, everything almost seemed too bright for his eyes. Like finding Ludwig for the first time, all over again. Meeting that man, for the third time. Well, the third time was the charm, or so they said.</p><p>Starting over yet again, but this time in the way <em>he </em>wanted it to be.</p><p>One day, huddled up under their blankets, Berwald stared at Ludwig very intently, and said, stiffly, "When it's all over, when it's done, yer comin' home with me."</p><p>The first time he'd ever found his words.</p><p>Didn't bother asking, '<em>Will </em>you come home with me?'</p><p>Felt better to try and word it as a command, because he was terrified that asking Ludwig would give him the option to say 'no', and making an order of it left Berwald with a little more control. Unless, anyway, Ludwig didn't feel like obeying that command and punched him in the face for being presumptuous.</p><p>Didn't know where he got that nerve from. Ludwig layin' there in red snow had jolted him. Didn't seem like it was even worth it anymore, to keep choking. After all that.</p><p>Ludwig stared back at him, pale and weary and still looking a bit frail, but that damn smile was as strong as ever when he lifted his brow and said, smoothly, "Is that so? Going with you, am I? Almost sounds like you're not giving me a choice."</p><p>Nope.</p><p>Berwald was quick to hunker down on his stance.</p><p>"Yer comin' with me," he repeated, a bit more forcefully, and Ludwig squirmed forward a bit, wincing a little at the pain in his chest but smiling yet away. That smile was more like a leer, though, and Ludwig's brow was so high that it had almost disappeared under his bangs.</p><p>"What if I say no?"</p><p>That almost obnoxious smile on Ludwig's face had long since made it clear to Berwald that Ludwig had no intention of <em>not </em>going home with him, but he was happy to play along, just because he was grateful he still had the chance to.</p><p>Ludwig was alive.</p><p>So he replied, very seriously, "I'll tie ya up and throw ya in the car and take ya anyway. Again."</p><p>Ludwig just gawked at him, breathlessly, and said, again, "Is that so?"</p><p>Berwald nodded, and Ludwig had somehow managed to wriggle himself right into Berwald's arms without Berwald really being aware of it. He clung to him, carefully, and felt satisfied.</p><p>A palm on his face, a nose against his, and Ludwig murmured, in that rumble, "I'll go home with you. Wherever it is."</p><p>Elation.</p><p>They didn't speak after that, just staring at each other and silently enjoying this comforting moment in time.</p><p>Wanted this war to end, so that he could finally have something he had always wanted. Hadn't had a real home in as long as he could remember, and had never had someone that wanted to share it with him.</p><p>Weeks passed.</p><p>Magnus lurked very heavily those days, desperate as he was to be with his best friend but too scared of Berwald to find the courage to creep in. Berwald saw him hanging back in shadows, creeping in corners, appearing around doors, and it was only because he looked so pitiful and Berwald actually felt <em>bad</em> for him, go figure, that he relented and gave Ludwig a little room to breathe.</p><p>Just a little.</p><p>He vanished from Ludwig's side for an hour or two a day, to walk around outside, letting Magnus have his fun. Never wasted it, clearly, because whenever Berwald came back in Magnus was always stuck on Ludwig's side in whatever corner of the house they had chosen to haunt.</p><p>A week or two of that, and things seemed to settle a little, and Magnus started showing his face consistently, happily, as he always had before.</p><p>So slowly, things returned to normal amongst them.</p><p>Ludwig's wound was healing rather nicely, his strength was returning, and Timo's confidence was ever rising. No brawls so far under his command, no blow outs, no catastrophes.</p><p>Yet.</p><p>With Ludwig looking better every day, Berwald finally started going out again, because he was beginning to feel pretty useless, just sitting there in the house all day and burning holes through Ludwig with his relentless staring.</p><p>Timo seemed happy enough to have Berwald back, because it was with Timo that Berwald mostly went out with those days. Seemed fair, in a way, to take Ludwig's place. Lukas and Magnus were always together, so Berwald felt it was his job in Ludwig's absence to keep an eye on Timo. Timo no doubt was glad to have another good sniper with him.</p><p>Berwald did remember, at last, to get Ludwig a rifle. A Soviet one. Ludwig could have easily usurped Magnus' Soviet rifle, since he never used the damn thing, but he supposed it was better to have an extra. A pretty new rifle, a very good model, and Berwald took a good long while to wash it free of blood before he gave it to Ludwig. The polite thing to do, he gathered.</p><p>Finding a new scope, though...</p><p>A little more expensive than just murdering a Red and takin' his gear.</p><p>Kinda wished he hadn't taken his rage out on his favorite gun, but, hell, was a little late for all that, so he bit the bullet, shelled out the money, and bought a new scope from Timo's guys.</p><p>Worth the price when he presented his peace offering to Ludwig, a bit dramatically, because Ludwig's smile was bright and pretty and Ludwig immediately dragged him into the bedroom to burrow under the blankets with him and cuddle.</p><p>Couldn't do much else, really, these days.</p><p>That night, though, Ludwig got a little ambitious perhaps, because Berwald was woken up by Ludwig running hands under his shirt. He tried to put a stop to that (really, he did!) by chiding Ludwig gently about his wound, not strong enough, was still in pain, etc., but Ludwig was relentless, and Berwald, despite his best, honest efforts (<em>really</em>!) eventually folded and gave Ludwig what he wanted.</p><p>Carefully and with a great deal of paranoia, stopping every two minutes to ask, breathlessly, "You okay?"</p><p>Ludwig just sighed, and just griped back, "It'll take a little more than this to kill me. No offense."</p><p>"None taken," Berwald dumbly grumbled back, and couldn't exactly try to prove Ludwig wrong at the moment.</p><p>Unfortunately.</p><p>...eh, he would just owe Ludwig a good bit of hell when he was finally back up to speed.</p><p>For the most part, though, over those next few days, the wound had more or less scarred over. The bandages weren't tinted with blood anymore. A huge scar, steadily forming.</p><p>Ludwig had a hell of a story to tell, that was for sure.</p><p>The weather was becoming a bit more mild, not as bitterly cold, and one day Berwald found himself on the bed, sprawled out sideways across Ludwig's lap, feet hanging over the edge and face resting atop the bed as Ludwig's ran fingers down his back. Was in no mood to do anything, nothing at all, one of those lethargic days where he didn't even feel like leaving bed. Having Ludwig coddle him a little was a good incentive to stay put, and he was quite agitated when there was a rap on the door and it creaked open.</p><p>Before Berwald could reposition himself, he had already been caught.</p><p>Timo leaned in the doorframe, an awful, crooked leer on his face, brow high and arms crossed, and when he met Berwald's eyes, he just said, slyly, "Well, I was going to see if you wanted to come out today, but I can see that you're otherwise occupied." A smug look. "Say, better be careful. He's already half-dead. Don't wanna get him too <em>excited </em>and finish him off for good. That would be a, ah, <em>hard </em>cause of death to explain to the coroner."</p><p>Good thing Timo spoke in Swedish that time, because Ludwig mighta punched him if he hadn't.</p><p>Berwald, face red, wished he could have melted into the bed and disappeared from Timo's smarmy sight. Coulda died.</p><p>Ludwig saw his look, and had sent Timo a glance of exasperation, but Timo diffused him easily with a quick, "How ya feelin' Ludwig? Magnus' blood isn't turning you into a jerk, is it?"</p><p>Ludwig smiled, now disinterested in Berwald's miserable squirming, and retorted, "Nah. Actually, I realize now that I'm grateful I didn't get yours."</p><p>Timo bantered with Ludwig, but the entire while his eyes rested on Berwald, and it was quite obvious that he was absolutely enthralled in his efforts to make Berwald die there on the spot. Seeing if he could make someone actually die of embarrassment. Berwald couldn't stand Timo's smile anymore, and promptly buried his face in the mattress, still sprawled out over Ludwig's lap, and tried damn hard to fade away.</p><p>Didn't work.</p><p>Ludwig just rested his elbows on Berwald's back and used him as a rest as he and Timo kept at it.</p><p>If he concentrated hard enough, he could die. He was sure of it. Could certainly do it. Death or Timo? Death or Timo...</p><p>"Well!" Timo finally said, again in Swedish, "Guess I'm gonna head out. I'll let you get back to...<em>comforting </em>him. Like I said, just be careful. I don't think Magnus is going to be willing to part with anymore blood, especially if he hears that it's just because you needed to make up for lost time."</p><p>...death.</p><p>Berwald, still and silent, just kept his face buried in the bed and could feel his neck turning as red as his face must have been. Ludwig's fingers, resting lightly on his upper back. Damn, damn, damn, didn't wanna go, didn't wanna squirm away from Ludwig's warmth, but Timo was gonna bust his ass some more if he didn't. Damn.</p><p>At the last second, Berwald finally lifted his head up from the mattress, found his voice, and called, shakily, "I'm going, I'm going, just—just give me a goddamn second, won't'cha, Christ, Timo, did ya haveta say it like <em>that</em>, god—"</p><p>His speech dissolved into unintelligible mutters, and Timo tossed back, cheerily, "Just a second, eh? Man, you gotta learn how to appreciate your man, ya know? If you just speed through it then he's not gonna have any fun and then—"</p><p>"<em>Timo</em>!"</p><p>A quirked brow. "Well. I'll be waiting outside! Just, you know, finish up. Hold your breath and it'll go faster, and don't forget to at least tell him 'thank you' afterwards. You guys take that for granted, you know."</p><p>And then, with that, Timo flashed him a bright smile and was gone.</p><p>Berwald quite literally jumped out of the bed, glasses crooked and face so red that Ludwig probably thought he was going to faint, and he only managed to turn to Ludwig, say, "I'll be back in a little bit!" and then he lifted up his foot and bolted to the door as fast as he could so that he wouldn't keel over dead right there.</p><p>Goddammit, Timo.</p><p>Berwald was fairly certain that when he went outside at last, Timo's sneer was actually and honestly sucking the very essence out of his being. Was draining the life right out of him, he was sure of it, because he felt quite lifeless and comatose as he tumbled along behind Timo, his face still throbbing red.</p><p>What a little jerk.</p><p>How he hadn't gotten himself shot that day, he didn't know. Thought about shootin' Timo, though, the creep.</p><p>Ludwig was waiting in the bed to carry on coddling him when he returned, however, and there was a slight possibility that he was pouting a little when he plopped back down on top of Ludwig right where he had left off.</p><p>Had been very comfortable before, and hadn't enjoyed being interrupted.</p><p>Ludwig just snorted, smoothing Berwald's hair, and sighed, teasingly, "My poor old guy."</p><p>Meh.</p><p>There was nothing like being in an actual relationship, nothing felt like that, nothing Berwald had ever known.</p><p>Berwald and Ludwig were at their peak, so to speak, having said what they needed to say and finally seeing eye to eye at last, but they weren't the only ones that had settled, apparently.</p><p>Lately, Timo and Magnus had been acting a bit differently.</p><p>It had always been apparent that Magnus had been hopelessly enamored with Timo from the very start, and Timo had seemed to enjoy the attention and had certainly been attracted to Magnus, but Timo had always been a little aloof.</p><p>Not so much anymore. Timo seemed more sincere now, more affectionate.</p><p>Berwald couldn't say why, if it had been the realization that Magnus loved Timo so much that he was terrified of someone else taking him, if it had been the realization that Magnus' greatest fear was Berwald meaning more to Timo than he did, or if it had been the realization that Magnus, for it all, was just such an honest guy that he was willing to ruin something that everyone else had supported because he had been sure it was the right thing to do. If Timo had been enraptured by the fact that Magnus had so passionately attempted to look out for the well-being of someone else.</p><p>Hell, maybe it was all of it.</p><p>Magnus had always loved Timo, but now Berwald was pretty sure that he could look at them and say, at last, that Timo loved Magnus. Not as much, no, not as ardently and furiously, but loved him all the same. Wasn't evenhanded, but it didn't always need to be. Magnus would have burnt up the earth for Timo, and Timo would have cast Magnus aside without a second thought for Finland's sake, yet for now they stood side by side.</p><p>That ultimate decision for Timo had yet to come, and the way he smiled at Magnus when he thought no one was looking was actually quite pretty.</p><p>It was just <em>sad</em>, to see them on opposite sides, to see Timo swept up in Magnus' arms one day and then scream Magnus into the dirt the next. Hated it for them. It was easier for Berwald, having no real passion for it like they did.</p><p>Berwald spied on them frequently, and entirely unintentionally. Just seemed to have a knack for turning a corner and coming across them in some manner. Berwald was torn, because he still wanted so desperately to hate Magnus, as he was used to, but it was getting harder and harder to harness that anger.</p><p>When Timo reached out and put his hand on Magnus' cheek, Berwald saw, for the first time, the way that fidgeting Magnus actually sat still, and seemed to calm. Under Timo's hand, Magnus was subdued. Absolute tranquility there upon his face.</p><p>And, really, it was a strange sight for Berwald, because he was forced to admit that, beyond that loud mouth and false confidence, Magnus was really the best of the bunch. Magnus was the closest amongst them to being a truly good human being. Magnus was, god help him, the only one of them that truly could have ever been called 'sweet'.</p><p>Lukas was calm, but crazy, Timo was friendly, but aggressive, Berwald was quiet, but bitter, and Ludwig was kind, but hot-headed.</p><p>Magnus was just a sweet idiot that had somehow found himself in a place he had no business being. A good guy that had been put into a situation where the only thing he could think to do was to be loud and arrogant so that he wouldn't start crying. False bravado to mask insecurity and sadness.</p><p>Left an awful taste in his mouth, too, to admit that, but there wasn't any other way around it.</p><p>Magnus was the best of them.</p><p>Kept on finding less and less reasons to hate the son of a bitch, and somehow that only made Berwald want to hate him more. Just couldn't. That fire had burnt out, it seemed, and he and Magnus passed each other quickly and quietly and avoided eye contact. It was kinda sad, in some stupid way. Hell, Berwald almost felt like he had become bereft of something, by losing his passionate hatred for his self-declared arch-nemesis.</p><p>Rather dull, not fantasizing about punching him anymore.</p><p>With no strong sentiments left to spare for Magnus, Berwald could only focus on Ludwig and watch him come back from the edge, as he had several times.</p><p>Ludwig was damn strong, because he was so young. Could bounce back from just about anything apparently, because the brat had yet to be taken down and showed no signs of stopping. Probably coulda used him as a human shield for their own benefit and Ludwig would have just healed up rather nicely afterwards.</p><p>Come to think, Ludwig was healing <em>too </em>quickly, and Berwald was agitated when month after month passed and he realized that Ludwig was very soon going to be running at full steam and ready to go back out. Hadn't really wanted that. Liked it so much better, knowing where Ludwig was at all times and that he was safe.</p><p>Seven months.</p><p>It took a little over seven months before Ludwig was fully back up to speed.</p><p>Ludwig pulled himself out of bed one morning, raised a hand up to his chest, and stood up straight. A deep inhale. And there must not have been any pain, no dizziness or breathlessness, because Ludwig looked at Berwald soon after and said, with a smile, "So! When do I get to go out and save the world again?"</p><p>Berwald, not sure whether to be relieved or not, heard himself say, "Later rather than sooner. As out of practice as ya are, yer probably a worse shot than Magnus."</p><p>Ludwig laughed.</p><p>Berwald tried to keep Ludwig distracted, tried to keep him in bed, through whatever means, and tried very hard to keep him from being in Timo's sights for too long, because the very second Timo realized Ludwig was revved up and ready to go, he would leap on him.</p><p>Trying to delay the inevitable.</p><p>Entirely in vain, because Ludwig, restless no doubt, eventually squirmed out of Berwald's clutches and back into the real word. He said to Timo one night, eagerly, "Ready for me to save your ass again?"</p><p>With no hesitation, Timo drawled, "Can't wait. I died three times without you there, you know."</p><p>Magnus snorted, and Berwald glowered at the wall, sighing. Could only accept it as it was, because Ludwig did what he wanted, just like Timo.</p><p>Maybe Timo and Berwald were of one mind sometimes, however, because Timo looked at Ludwig, and added, "Test out your new rifle first. Get used to it. Work on your aim. You gotta be a bad shot by now."</p><p>Ludwig sent Berwald a testy glare, as if accusing Berwald of putting that idea into Timo's head, and Berwald tried hard not to smirk. Swear to god, he hadn't said a damn thing. It was just an obvious tease.</p><p>Ludwig took it personally, though, like everything, and was outside with his new Soviet rifle the very next day, getting a feel for it and seeing how it sat with him. Timo, of course, loved having Ludwig wield a Soviet rifle to kill Soviets, for the same reason Timo always used Soviet guns; it was just an extra slap in the face.</p><p>That night, Ludwig was in good spirits, clearly happy to be back to life as normal, so eager to reclaim his pride and dignity, and when Timo pulled up his shirt to check his wound, just to make sure, Timo said, "Whew! That sure is a good one."</p><p>Ludwig lifted his chin and said, rather proudly, "Yeah! At least now I've got a scar to show off. Can't let you guys have all the fun."</p><p>Offhandedly, Lukas crooned, "Call me when you've been stabbed."</p><p>Magnus grumbled, "I'm good like this, thanks."</p><p>"Hear, hear," Berwald grumbled.</p><p>Afterwards, Lukas crooned, so silkily, "Can I have my room back now that you're not dying?"</p><p>"Gladly," Berwald immediately consented, before Ludwig could even speak, more than happy to be away from that chest full of Lukas' cables and wires. Good riddance!</p><p>Timo forced Ludwig into rifle practice frequently, for his own sake if nothing else, and it was a month before the start of '43 when Ludwig went back out for the first time.</p><p>Berwald was so nervous, but Ludwig was positively bristling with excitement. Could see how desperately he wanted to prove himself, and that just made Berwald all the more nervous, because Ludwig was already reckless enough as it was, too bold and fearless. Didn't need him showing off now on top of it.</p><p>When Ludwig put on that coat, for the first time since, Timo came up to him, grabbed his hand in one of those old claps, and cried, fervently, "I'm damn glad to have <em>you </em>back!"</p><p>Ludwig seemed as eager, just as riled, and rumbled, "Good to be back. I'm here to keep you from dying for the fourth time."</p><p>Timo shoved Ludwig's fist back into his chest, and even though Berwald didn't want Ludwig to go, he still felt himself smiling a little. Good to see Ludwig happy. Good to see Ludwig and Timo stuck together again as they always had been before. Liked the way they smiled at each other, loved seeing people getting along. Couldn't have all of them getting along at once, so Berwald took what he could get.</p><p>Despite his desire to earn his place again, to rebuild ego, after long lectures by Berwald and Timo (and Lukas and Magnus, secretly no doubt), Ludwig seemed to be doing a fairly admirable job of keeping his temper in check and thinking before he acted. Timo's eyes always on Ludwig probably helped to keep him in line.</p><p>For now, Berwald was content with Ludwig's behavior.</p><p>Timo, on the other hand...</p><p>As Berwald had always known, Timo being in control led to very tense clashing, and very frequently, now that Ludwig was back in the mix. Having Ludwig back seemed to spur Timo on, seemed to rile him up more, boosted his confidence back up to where it had been, and it didn't sit too well with Lukas. Magnus just took whatever Timo dished out at him silently, as always, but Lukas of course always had something to say.</p><p>And honestly?</p><p>Berwald was actually pretty happy that Timo had to deal with this bullshit now, that Timo was the one 'in charge' and had to try to keep angry men on opposite sides together. Berwald had done his part, had had his fun so to speak, and it was gratifying in a way to see someone else grab the reigns and see firsthand how hard it was.</p><p>Sure looked different from the other side, didn't it, the jerk.</p><p>Timo tried, sometimes, but it was very clear that Lukas had been thrust in the corner in Timo's mind, and he didn't give Lukas much slack those days. Always shooting down any suggestion Lukas had, never hearing him out, never asking his opinion because, to be quite frank, Timo just didn't want it.</p><p>It was easy to see how angry Lukas was, as Magnus sort of flitted back and forth between Lukas and Timo like a very confused and very scared dog, and Berwald wondered how long it would be before Timo and Lukas had it out.</p><p>When it came to making war, Timo was unrivaled amongst them, unsurpassed, but when it came to making compromises and working as a team, Timo fell very short.</p><p>There were no more plans and discussions; Lukas and Magnus just came and went when they pleased, told no one where they were going, how long they were going to be gone, and what they were doing.</p><p>Timo hated it, but didn't say a word because Timo also seemed to hate Lukas.</p><p>Magnus was Lukas' saving grace lately. Berwald was so certain Timo would have kicked Lukas out of their circle had it not been for Magnus.</p><p>Poor Magnus always seemed to be walking with his tail between his legs, bowing to Timo's wrath and still adhering to Lukas' plans because it was what Magnus thought was right. Leaving unannounced with Lukas and coming back through the door days later, head low and already bracing for Timo's tongue-lashing.</p><p>Berwald hated saying that he really pitied Magnus lately.</p><p>Often those days, Lukas and Magnus would sit together at night, hanging over a map and murmuring to each other very quietly, and Timo would stare at them from the kitchen table, eyes watching them like a hawk and stance tense. A tinderbox, just waiting for a match. Lukas and Magnus plotted their assault on German strongholds, attempting to avoid both Timo's knowledge and rage. Lukas and Magnus sought to sabotage and disrupt the German army on the free side of Finland, and Timo seemed very torn between thwarting them and trying to pretend he didn't know anything at all.</p><p>How hard that must have been for Timo, to choose between letting them sabotage German supply lines and injure Finland in the long run, or to send his men out to stop them and risk them being shot in the process—well, risk <em>Magnus</em> being shot, that was.</p><p>Berwald knew that it was only Timo's love of Magnus that kept him from just taking them both out back and shooting them, but there were many days that Berwald could stand there and feel that their time together was coming to an end. Couldn't effectively keep going like this, standing on opposite sides. They loved each other, but sometimes that just wasn't enough. Berwald stayed because he loved Ludwig, and Magnus stayed because he loved Timo. Lukas stayed because he didn't have anywhere else to go, and maybe Lukas also stayed for Magnus, if only for pity. Hell, at that point, maybe Lukas stayed just to piss Timo off. Come to think, that sounded more than plausible, way Lukas was.</p><p>They did their best, as anyone ever could, and tried so hard to keep the war outside of the house. Crept in regardless, but they were doing alright. Not good, but alright.</p><p>It wasn't so bad here, really. The war outside was brutal, but here in occupied Finland it was relatively calm yet. Timo looked at the map, always, and Berwald couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking about moving again, or if maybe Timo wanted to go off and join the SS, as he had longed to when the Germans had invaded the Soviet Union. If Timo wanted to march them out to volunteer in the Eastern Front. That would truly have been the end of it.</p><p>Maybe it <em>had </em>been on Timo's mind, because one night Ludwig curled up against him and whispered, as they drifted, "If we ever split up, where will you go?"</p><p>"Nowhere," Berwald had answered, with no uncertainty. "If we split up, I'm done. I won't fight anymore. I'll just take you home."</p><p>Didn't ask if Ludwig would go with him, because he figured he didn't really need to. Ludwig was deathly loyal to Timo, but Berwald knew well enough that if the chance to stop fighting and live normally came about, Ludwig would snatch it.</p><p>Ludwig had just smiled, and buried his face.</p><p>But months passed, and they stayed still.</p><p>1943 started coming to an end, before Berwald had really even known it began.</p><hr/><p>The war wouldn't stop.</p><p>No matter how long they held their breaths, the war just wouldn't end. Kept on hoping it would get better, but it only got worse. Sitting there over the radio every day, all of them, listening to the news, each of them hoping to hear different things. They may have wanted different outcomes, but all of them could at least agree that they just wanted the war to <em>end</em>.</p><p>It whatever manner.</p><p>Ludwig woke up every morning, and hoped that he would flip on the radio and hear that the war had ended, and that he and Berwald could just go <em>home</em>.</p><p>Things were so tense, so fraught, falling apart at the seams.</p><p>Timo and Lukas were going to hurt each other before long, Ludwig could feel it. Couldn't do anything about it either, because both of them were absolute bulls and couldn't be reasoned with. Trying to get in between them when they argued was absolutely pointless.</p><p>Still, they tried so hard to keep it together, to remember that they were brothers, and for now they were clinging in there.</p><p>Barely.</p><p>It was the beginning of December of '43 when they hit the next bump in the road.</p><p>Had started as any other night. How could Ludwig have known?</p><p>Had just been sitting on the couch with Berwald, chatting away lowly, as Lukas and Magnus whispered together in shadows as they often did these days. Timo had been in the kitchen for a long while, alone. Ludwig had assumed he was getting himself in the bag.</p><p>Not quite.</p><p>Berwald went upstairs shortly after, and when Ludwig stood up and meant to follow several minutes later, a hand snatched out from the kitchen and yanked him in. Timo was dragging him over into the corner, and Ludwig could see right away that he was up to something. The way he was jittery and bristling, the dilation of his pupils with adrenaline. Ludwig was on guard immediately, as Timo reached up, grabbed the back of his head, yanked him forward, and when Timo pressed his lips into Ludwig's ear, he whispered, "Don't fall asleep."</p><p>A surge of dread.</p><p>What was Timo up to?</p><p>Timo was still clenching him there, voice so low that even Ludwig could hardly hear it despite Timo's lips touching him.</p><p>"We're going out, me and you. I'll let you know when. Don't fall asleep; I need you clearheaded."</p><p>Timo let Ludwig go, turned his eyes to Lukas and Magnus murmuring away, and Ludwig was rather alarmed when Timo abruptly left. Oh, man. Nothing good ever came from when Timo got that look on his face.</p><p>He stood there, and decided to just stay downstairs. Didn't want to go lie down with Berwald, because now he was jittery and Berwald would notice, and Ludwig would probably end up cracking if he were interrogated. Wanted to avoid an unnecessary confrontation.</p><p>Because he was nervous, Ludwig crept a little closer to Magnus and Lukas, hoping maybe they would pay him some attention, reassure him in some way, but the closer he got the quieter they became, and he realized whatever they were talking about was something he wasn't supposed to hear.</p><p>He retreated, and plopped down on the chair in the corner, elbows on his knees and glowering at the floor awkwardly.</p><p>Magnus looked as nervous as Ludwig did, and their eyes frequently met.</p><p>Damn—felt so <em>bad </em>for Magnus. Had been wrangled by these men yet again, and no longer had good reason to ask Magnus to just up and leave with him. Sometimes, Ludwig thought about taking Berwald up on that offer to go home, end of the war or no, and trying to just take Magnus with him. Lukas would leave, and Timo could fight his war alone in the manner he wanted. Could go join the SS as he so desired, with no one holding him back.</p><p>But Ludwig loved Timo too much to ever go through with it.</p><p>Emotions were the worst. Sure did hate them.</p><p>Timo suddenly came up behind him, rested his elbow on Ludwig's shoulder, and once more pressed his lips into Ludwig's ear to hiss, "Go to bed. If ya don't go lay down they're never gonna leave. I got this all timed down to a damn footsteps."</p><p>A jolt, a twinge of anxiety, but Ludwig immediately stood up a moment later, when Timo had vanished upstairs, and crept up into the bedroom.</p><p>Anyone had a right to be terrified when Timo was plotting.</p><p>When Ludwig snuck into the bedroom and crawled into bed, Berwald was asleep, and Ludwig stared at him silently, waiting for Timo to come calling.</p><p>Couldn't have slept then if he had wanted to, with all of that adrenaline, and he just ran his eyes over sleeping Berwald pensively. Trying to think instead about where Berwald intended to take him afterwards. Really hoped it was to that first little house in the mountains. Dreamt all the time about that place, and missed it.</p><p>They had been happy there, all of them, friends, and no one had fought. Timo and Lukas had been <em>friends</em>, chatting and laughing with each other and smiling. Magnus and Timo had been warm and loving. Magnus had been Timo's equal back then, and Timo had happily trailed behind him as Magnus plucked flowers for him. Berwald hadn't had that crease of worry in his forehead.</p><p>Sometimes, Ludwig stood there and looked at them all, and realized how different they were now, all of them, from the first day he had met them.</p><p>The insanity of the war had brought out the worst in them.</p><p>And then there was one single, very soft tap on the door. Barely noticeable, and anyone would have thought it was just normal creaking of the house. Wished it was, but Ludwig knew better and carefully rolled out of bed and crept to the door, slinking out without waking Berwald up.</p><p>As soon as he shut the door behind him, Timo whispered, "Is he awake?"</p><p>Ludwig shook his head.</p><p>Timo was satisfied, and Ludwig followed him downstairs in the dark. Everything was quiet, only lit up by the moonlight, and Ludwig could already see by the door the rifles and familiar white coats. No Lukas or Magnus in sight. Funny—hadn't heard Magnus come upstairs.</p><p>Timo handed him his coat, and as they dressed, Ludwig glanced up the stairs, hoping in a way that Berwald would somehow come down and save him from Timo. Never did.</p><p>"Where are we going?" Ludwig finally asked, shifting his weight as Timo pulled the chalk out and smeared it under Ludwig's eyes and then his own.</p><p>"You'll see. I'll tell you on the way. We have to go. I think I got this timed all right. We should be just in time."</p><p>With that, Timo slung his rifle over his shoulder as Ludwig took his own, and they made for the door, Ludwig trailing blindly behind Timo as he always had and always would.</p><p>Was a bit surprised when they got into a waiting car in town, and more surprised when Timo just slung the rifles in the backseat. They just started out like that, in those coats and with that chalk on their faces, guns in the back, and Ludwig was having very, <em>very</em> bad memories.</p><p>Not a place he ever wanted to be again, and Timo knew it, because he glanced at squirming Ludwig and snorted, "Bad déjà vu, huh?"</p><p>"You have no idea."</p><p>Had been here once already, and it hadn't ended very well.</p><p>After a short silence, Ludwig asked again, "Where are we going?"</p><p>"We're just going to prevent some destruction," Timo pertly said, and Ludwig barked a laugh at that.</p><p>Hilarious, really, because Timo loved <em>causing </em>destruction. The thought of him attempting to thwart it was quite humorous.</p><p>"See that car way out there?" Timo asked, chin high and inclining towards a very faint dot of light on the distance. "That's our missing comrades."</p><p>The anxiety intensified.</p><p>More so when Timo spat under his breath, "Comrades! Hardly. Bastards."</p><p>"Where are <em>they</em> going?"</p><p>"To the German fort right across the border. If my understanding is correct, and of course it is, they intend to sabotage the supplies there and set the Red POWs free."</p><p>Feeling clammy and grim, Ludwig watched the distant car ahead, and after a long silence, he said, "We shouldn't be following them, Timo. We agreed to let each other do what we thought was right."</p><p>"I know we did," Timo said, voice sharp and stern. "And so I have. I've been letting them do what they want. If they just want to sabotage the Germans, alright. I pretended I didn't hear it. I let them get away with it, even though I wished I coulda just shot— Well. This is different. They want to let loose Reds. That's where I draw the line. Setting those men loose on Finnish soil—no way. I won't stand for that. I won't."</p><p>Ludwig stared out ahead at the bright moon over the snowy forests, and after a very long silence, he murmured, "Timo. If you're going to ask me to... If it comes down to it, I'm not going to shoot them. I won't. I can't. Even just to scare them. I won't do it."</p><p>Timo's face softened, just a bit.</p><p>"No. I know. Don't worry. No one's gonna get hurt."</p><p>Timo diverted then, and they left the main roads into dirt ones, very bumpy and very hazardous.</p><p>They left Soviet-occupied Karelia, and drove into free Finland on isolated logging roads.</p><p>And damn, Ludwig kinda wished they coulda all just stayed there. Would have loved to go down the street without having flashbacks of Red tanks and roadblocks. To be in uncontested Finnish territory, where Germans were always nearby.</p><p>To fill the silence during the drive, Ludwig did ask, hopefully, "So, you ever think about leaving Karelia and coming here instead? You know. It is free here. Wouldn't you rather be here?"</p><p>Timo very quickly said, as expected, "Nah. No Reds to shoot here. I want all of Finland to be like this. We haven't given up on Karelia yet. Not yet. That's still Finland, whatever the Reds say. I won't stop until they're gone."</p><p>Nothing he hadn't expected, and Ludwig turned his eyes to the trees.</p><p>Lukas and Magnus were certainly getting ambitious. How far did they think they could really press Timo? They should have known that Timo finding out about this would set him off. Timo seemed to know everything, and Ludwig didn't know how he did it.</p><p>Another hour passed, and then Timo turned off the headlights and they began creeping along. They parked, and Ludwig couldn't see the other car, for the dark and trees, and was quite helpless there, having to follow where Timo led.</p><p>But, damn! Timo was armed to high heaven. He tossed Ludwig the rifle, and then he took his own, and Ludwig watched as Timo took a handgun and tucked it in his coat pocket, and then he took up his favorite Soviet sub-machine gun, grabbed up a pack and threw it over his other shoulder, grabbed a string of ammunition disks to throw it around his neck, and started leading the way.</p><p>Christ, Timo, what was he planning? He had said no one would get <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>They crept through the trees and undergrowth, and Ludwig always kept his rifle at the ready, just in case. A long half hour, and then the wooden walls of the German fort were visible, a watchtower in the distance. A few lights. It wasn't huge by any means, but seemed daunting and terrifying all the same.</p><p>A pang of homesickness.</p><p>They scurried through the shadows, and Timo fell to a halt so quickly that Ludwig nearly ran right into him. Timo drew Ludwig's attention, and pointed his hand directly down the wall to the west.</p><p>"Keep your sights on Lukas," Timo hissed, as they crept forward. "Don't lose him for a second. When he runs, so do we."</p><p>"Got it."</p><p>Ludwig scoped around, and it took a while to find Lukas, as far away as he was and as well camouflaged. Knew him at a glance because of that stupid lucky backpack, the bastard.</p><p>"I've got him," Ludwig said, and Timo clapped him gently on the back.</p><p>"Just follow him," Timo said, as they knelt and made their way along the walls in shadow and brush. After a moment, Timo grumbled, to himself, "Don't let your finger slip. What a tragedy <em>that </em>would be."</p><p>Unease.</p><p>"You think they talk about <em>us </em>like this?" Ludwig asked, wistfully, and Timo snorted.</p><p>"I have no doubt."</p><p>Timo led Ludwig very slowly along, and Ludwig glanced over enough to realize what was happening; Lukas connected a long line of explosives along the wall, and Timo was kneeling down, diffusing them and sticking them into the bag he had brought. Brave bastard, for sure, plunging his hands like that into Lukas' bombs. Ludwig wouldn't have dared. Woulda blown them both up in an instant, but Timo's hands moved very swiftly and very quickly, surely, and they crept along with no incidents.</p><p>Those minutes were very long.</p><p>Ludwig held as steady as he could, always watching Lukas as he hunkered down and tied his wires and cables, while at the very same time Timo was unhooking them and tucking them away in his pack. Oh, man, though, was Lukas going to be furious when he saw his beloved bombs weren't going off like they should have. Hated an angry Lukas. Fuckin' terrifying.</p><p>He glanced from time to time at Timo, at his surroundings, and saw the barbed wire coming up ahead of them.</p><p>A shudder.</p><p>God, couldn't stand the sight of it. They were Reds, he knew, but somehow it still felt so wrong to him, men being behind wire like that. Could only ever really envision himself, all those nightmares he had had for years, of himself back there with that pink triangle.</p><p>Didn't seem right.</p><p>No prisoners were visible at all, because it was so late. They were in the small, wooden barracks, and Ludwig was so grateful for that.</p><p>Hated seeing men on the other side of barbed wire, whoever they may have been, but the sentiment was clearly not mutual because at the last stretch of wire, before they regained cover, Timo muttered something in Finnish and spat upon the ground.</p><p>Ludwig realized then why Timo had brought the sub-machine gun; on the chance that they couldn't get to these explosives in time. If the fence had been breached and the Red POWs had made a break for it, Timo had brought that gun to lie in wait and shoot them all before they could escape. Timo wouldn't let those men go loose in his country. Woulda razed them all down right there, unarmed though they were. That was why he had brought so much ammunition.</p><p>Sometimes, Ludwig was a little scared of Timo.</p><p>After the camp came supply sheds. Timo seemed a little less harried then, because to Timo the main thing had been to prevent a Red escape.</p><p>Ludwig watched Lukas ever fixedly, as Magnus stood guard at his side, shifting anxiously and always looking around. It was damn good for them that Magnus was out of his element, because anyone else would have long since noticed the occasional glint of moonlight off of Ludwig's rifle. That poor dope. Didn't have a clue.</p><p>Timo had started humming very quietly, because he was apparently just <em>that</em> happy he had kept the prisoners in place.</p><p>A few more minutes stealthily following their oblivious comrades, and then Ludwig jumped a little, pulsed with adrenaline, because Lukas had bolted upright and started making a break for it back into the forest.</p><p>"He's running!"</p><p>Timo was up in a flash, grabbing Ludwig's sleeve and hauling him immediately back into the trees.</p><p>An exhilarating moment, sprinting as fast as they could through the snow and brush, weaving through the trees and trying to get as far away as possible. Timo grabbed his arm suddenly, and yanked him down behind a huge tree. They hunkered down, and a second later the bombs they hadn't gotten to went off.</p><p>Lit up the night and shook the ground. Snow falling down from the trees all around. Birds flying off in a panic. When the shockwave was over, they lifted their heads, and Timo started laughing, clapping Ludwig on the shoulder and hissing, "Wish I could see the look on Lukas' face right now!"</p><p>"I don't," Ludwig said, shivering.</p><p>The scariest thing in the universe, he was so certain, that furious face of Lukas'.</p><p>A bell started ringing in the distance, and there was shouting. Chaos. The soldiers were running out of the barracks, as surely were the prisoners, to see what the hell was happening.</p><p>He heard more familiar voices then to the side, far off in the trees, and Timo laughed more because it was Lukas, shrieking and cursing to the forest. But then the other voices were closer, and Timo stood up and started running again. Ludwig stood too, and scoped the trees quickly for Lukas and Magnus, to see if they were safe.</p><p>They were; Magnus was grabbing wrathful Lukas' arm and trying to drag him away.</p><p>Ludwig moved the scope towards the fort, and had a moment of terror when he saw a soldier running down, clearly on Lukas and Magnus' trail and trying to hunt them down.</p><p>Ludwig ran along then, as best he could, stopping every half minute to check on his comrades and make sure they were still unimpeded.</p><p>That soldier was getting closer, though, and there was an awful moment when Magnus looked over his shoulder, and suddenly the soldier was close enough to have a clear shot. The soldier raised his rifle, and Ludwig, in a panic, took aim at him, because he wouldn't let Magnus get shot, even if he didn't want to hurt a countryman. Had every intention of shooting that German soldier in the arm or leg, just to incapacitate him, but then the soldier started screaming.</p><p>"<em>Stop</em>! I'll fire! Stop!"</p><p>Ludwig felt out of nowhere as if the forest had turned into the ocean, because he sure as hell couldn't breathe suddenly.</p><p>That <em>voice</em>.</p><p>No—couldn't be! It wasn't possible.</p><p>He turned back to Magnus, in his confusion. A split second of Magnus stumbling, stopping, and then turning around, and Ludwig swung the rifle over yet again, dumbly, breathing heavily and feeling clammy.</p><p>Couldn't be, just couldn't.</p><p>But it was; he honed in again on the soldier, really looked at him, glimpsed him there in the moonlight, and knew at just a glance.</p><p>Gilbert.</p><p>Impossible! He was seeing things, had to be, was mistaken, was just shaken up and making things up in his head, because it couldn't be Gilbert. Couldn't be.</p><p>A rifle pointed at Magnus, and Ludwig focused his gaze once more after shaking his head quickly to clear it, and felt his heart drop. It <em>was</em> Gilbert. It really was. Had been moved up here to patrol this camp. Had been so close to Ludwig for who knew how long. So damn close, all this time. Had been so homesick, had pined so for Gilbert, and he had been just a few hours away.</p><p>This wasn't fair.</p><p>He swing the rifle back towards Magnus, who was pointing his gun at Gilbert in a panic.</p><p>An awful hesitation.</p><p>Ludwig was faced then with the worst possible decision, the worst outcome, his very nightmare come true : Gilbert and Magnus aiming at each other, and Ludwig in between at a distance, rifle in hand and looking back and forth, back and forth, knowing he needed to shoot and not knowing <em>who</em>.</p><p>Couldn't handle it—</p><p>Gilbert was his brother, his real brother, family, blood, the man that had raised him, but, god, Magnus was his best friend, his other blood brother, if by circumstance, Magnus had saved his life and Gilbert was a terrible person, but Gilbert loved <em>him</em>, loved his little brother, even if he hated the rest of the world, god, but Magnus was a great guy, a good person in the wrong place, and Ludwig had never felt that anyone understood him more than Magnus did—</p><p>Back and forth. Which one. Back and forth.</p><p>His sights fell on Magnus.</p><p>His finger contracted, and fell short.</p><p>Back to Gilbert.</p><p>Couldn't fuckin' <em>do </em>it, couldn't.</p><p>That split second felt like eternity, felt like it dragged out forever, just a half a second that ruined everything in him.</p><p>Shots.</p><p>Gilbert had stood there, hadn't moved, and Magnus' quick gun had fired first, and Ludwig watched as if through a veil as Gilbert fell backwards.</p><p>The world stopped.</p><p>Gilbert was a soldier, so much quicker on the draw—why hadn't he fired? Why hadn't he shot Magnus when he had had such a good chance? Magnus had frozen up, and Gilbert had had a clean shot and hadn't taken it. Why?</p><p>Ludwig came out of his stupor, and made a mad dash to Gilbert, winding through the trees in a very maniacal fashion, sprinting faster than he ever had.</p><p>Timo was bolting right behind him, shouting his name, trying to catch him, but Ludwig was fueled then by terror and desperation and Timo stood no chance of overtaking him in that moment, not with Gilbert on the other end of the line.</p><p>He was, however, snagged by the collar when someone jumped out from behind a tree and right in front of him, dragging him so furiously to a halt that he choked.</p><p>Lukas.</p><p>"What are you fuckin' <em>doing here</em>?" Lukas roared, grabbing Ludwig by the collar so fiercely that he actually lifted Ludwig off the ground for a second. Had never known Lukas could scream like that, and ignored him, clawing out of his grasp to continue on his desperate run to Gilbert.</p><p>Magnus looked stupefied, and he could hear Timo and Lukas bellowing at each other then, absolutely going at it, as Lukas realized what had happened, that he had been sabotaged.</p><p>Ludwig skidded down to the ground next to Gilbert, as Timo broke free of Lukas and ran after him, calling his name. Magnus came over, too, looking so confused and lost.</p><p>Ludwig grabbed Gilbert up, and he couldn't see in the dark so he just ripped open Gilbert's shirt, trying to find the wound in the moonlight.</p><p>Gilbert opened his eyes, and looked up.</p><p>A short meeting of their gazes, as Gilbert looked quite awed, entranced, seeing a phantom as he was, and Ludwig looked back down to see the dark blood against Gilbert's white undershirt. In his left side. Had been hit far in the left side, above the hip, because Magnus couldn't shoot for shit and had somehow still fucked up a straight on shot with no obstructions.</p><p>And god! Ludwig had never been happier for that.</p><p>Timo was kneeling next to him then, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him.</p><p>"What are you doing? Huh? What's the matter with you? We have to go!"</p><p>Ludwig shook his head, too stunned to speak, and just pressed his hands down on top of the wound to stop the blood flow. Gilbert hissed a little, but made no move, still hypnotized apparently.</p><p>Timo, under pressure, shook him again, and when Ludwig looked over at him, blearily, Timo slapped him as hard as he could across the face. A momentary daze of stars, hard as Timo could hit, and then Timo shook him yet again.</p><p>"Get up! We have to go! Now."</p><p>Ludwig stayed stubbornly put, and finally managed to say, so weakly and roughly, "He's my brother."</p><p>Magnus stood above them, and inhaled. When Ludwig glanced up, Magnus looked absolutely horrified.</p><p>Timo, for his part, merely said, "Your bro— Oh." He pulled himself to his feet very quickly, and began pacing around in small circles, clearly contemplating and thinking and trying to figure out what to do.</p><p>Damn, was Gilbert the most beautiful thing Ludwig had ever seen in that moment. Had missed him so much, hadn't seen him in so long, and having him back was beyond comprehensible thought. As handsome as ever, if not looking a bit exhausted. Pale as the moon. Strong and broad and fearless.</p><p>His big brother.</p><p>Gilbert's eyes finally focused onto his own, he scoffed, woke up, and then Gilbert was sneering at him, that stupid arrogant smirk that Ludwig had loved, and he said, gruffly, "There you are, you little bastard! I knew I'd get myself killed eventually. Sure did take forever. I tried pretty hard, but they kept sending onto lame patrols. How was I supposed to die like that? Sorry I kept ya waiting so long."</p><p>Immediately, pitifully, Ludwig burst into tears.</p><p>That stupid son of a bitch! Hadn't fired intentionally. Had ran after them through the forest with a goal in mind, had been trying to get himself shot, had pursued them for just this, this, and hadn't shot Magnus because he had wanted Magnus to shoot him. Why he had shouted to Magnus to stop instead of shooting him in the back. Gilbert had put himself in a position to be killed because that was what he had wanted.</p><p>Stupid.</p><p>Ludwig pressed down as hard as he could on Gilbert's side, bawling as he was, and whined, in a high-pitch that nearly evaporated, "Why? Why are you so stupid?"</p><p>Gilbert's hand reached up, slapped down heavily on Ludwig's cheek, and he said, so deeply and lovingly, "Damn, I missed your face. Thanks for coming to see me off. I knew you would. I'm sorry you had to die first. It shouldn't'a been that way. I shoulda been able to keep ya safe. I shoulda never let you join. I love you, kiddo. Why'd you go and die, huh?"</p><p>Gilbert's hand fell back down as Ludwig sobbed helplessly above him, and Gilbert was fading in and out of consciousness then, as alertness fled.</p><p>Oh, didn't want Gilbert to <em>die</em>—</p><p>Magnus just stood there, looking down, and Ludwig thought he heard Magnus murmur, to himself, "I shot your brother."</p><p>Was in shock, Magnus, and didn't move.</p><p>Timo fell still, at last, and whispered, to the air, "Your brother. <em>Shit</em>. What do I do?"</p><p>Lukas was the one to finally come to a solution, and it wasn't one Ludwig would accept.</p><p>"We have to kill him!" Lukas shrieked, shoving at Timo's chest. "Are you fuckin' stupid? Huh? They'll find us, all of us! His fuckin' <em>brother</em>—this small place, it won't be hard to track down <em>Ludwig</em>, will it, everyone will look right at his picture and say, 'oh, yeah, that's Timo's <em>fuckin' German</em>', like they always do, you stupid bastard! They'll shoot all of us! The other groups, they'll think we're workin' for the Reds, they'll shoot all of us!"</p><p>"Well, you <em>are </em>workin' for the Reds <em>aren't </em>you, you dumb fuck!" Timo screeched back, voice cracking and shrill and furious. "So it's <em>your </em>fuckin' fault, all'a this! I oughta shoot <em>you</em>!"</p><p>It was true, though, what Lukas said. If Gilbert was nursed back to health here, seeing his little brother alive and well, Gilbert would have gone on the warpath looking for him, would have pulled Ludwig's photo out of his wallet and showed it to everyone in sight in these towns here, and someone would eventually recognize him because he was a known face with the rebels. Word would get out that he had been involved in an assault on a German fort, one way or another, and the other groups would come round them all up and shoot them, thinking they had turned.</p><p>A friend of the Reds, after all, was no friend of the Finns.</p><p>Lukas had a point, and Ludwig absolutely detested him for it, woulda beaten the hell out of him if he coulda stopped crying long enough to even just breathe, pressing down on Gilbert and whispering to him in vain.</p><p>Magnus stood above them, looking down as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe or something, looked damned mesmerized and horrified and stupefied and everything in between, and Timo punched Lukas in the face, Lukas struck back, and suddenly Lukas was barging forward, gun drawn and aimed at Gilbert.</p><p>No—</p><p>Ludwig woke up quickly enough at that, wrenched himself to his feet, as adrenaline and fear surged, the need to protect, and his rifle was too far, so Ludwig, in his fury and terror, snatched Timo, reached into his coat, and pulled out Timo's handgun, and for the second time he and Lukas stood before each other as enemies, guns pointed at each other's heads.</p><p>Ludwig could barely see the bastard, crying like that, standing before Gilbert and blocking him from Lukas' sights.</p><p>Lukas was blank, utterly blank, with the exception of his compulsive swallowing and the flare of his nostrils.</p><p>If Lukas wanted to kill Gilbert for sure, then he'd have to shoot Ludwig first. There was no question of that then, no uncertainty, and Ludwig pulled back the hammer and steadied his shaking hand.</p><p>That awful silence.</p><p>Timo was the leader, and should have said something, should have come forward, but he didn't, because maybe Timo <em>wanted </em>Ludwig to shoot Lukas, and it was Magnus in the end, poor Magnus, who finally crept forward, carefully, and inserted himself right in between those guns, facing Ludwig.</p><p>Timo stood still.</p><p>A squint of Magnus' eyes, and then he reached out, grabbed Ludwig's forearm, and lowered it, uttering, thickly, "<em>Please</em>— You're my best friend."</p><p>With the lowering of Ludwig's gun came the falling of Lukas', and Timo, seeing an opportunity and realizing that time was pressing and there was no other choice, knelt down and grabbed Gilbert under the armpits and began dragging him back. Lukas watched him go, and yet didn't aim at him.</p><p>Diffused, it seemed.</p><p>Magnus and Ludwig just stared at each other, dazed and devastated, and it was Ludwig that came to first, at the thought of Gilbert, and he bolted over to Timo to grab Gilbert's legs, leaving Magnus and Lukas behind.</p><p>The car couldn't come soon enough, and Ludwig crawled into the backseat with Gilbert, pressing his hands into the wound as Timo sped out as quick as he could without killing them.</p><p>They took Gilbert, as they had once taken Ludwig, because Gilbert could have brought about their end, although it would have been unintentional. Gilbert would have sought Ludwig and would have gotten him killed instead, so they had no choice. When Gilbert was awake, alert, he would know that he hadn't been hallucinating, or, if nothing else, he would have just clung to that hope and tried anyway. Would have searched and searched, and back home, the other rebels would burst into the house one night and shoot them in bed for being traitors.</p><p>Had to take him.</p><p>Gilbert, the jerk, Ludwig loved him <em>so</em> damn much, and he cried the entire time Timo furiously drove, never letting up pressure from that wound. None of this was right.</p><p>Gilbert was supposed to be invincible.</p><p>He leaned down, and whispered in Gilbert's ear endlessly, whatever came to mind, and sometimes Gilbert woke up for just a few minutes and stared up at him, dazed and not really there, murmuring back his own nonsense. Had missed those eyes, was so sure he would never see them again and yet here they were.</p><p>Wouldn't let him die.</p><p>Gilbert was the stupidest man Ludwig had ever met, with maybe the exception of himself.</p><p>Please, please, didn't want him to <em>die</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Old Account Was Settled Long Ago</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>Chapter 22</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>Old Account Was Settled Long Ago</strong>
  </p>
  <p>Time went by a lot faster when you were in total shock, it seemed, because Ludwig didn't even remember reaching home, didn't sense the time passing, didn't remember anything at all until suddenly someone was slapping him across the face.</p>
  <p>Timo, trying to wake him up and drag him to his feet.</p>
  <p>He tried to screw his head on, and he and Timo grabbed Gilbert up and carried him inside. When they had kicked open the door and hauled Gilbert in, that was when Lukas and Magnus came roaring up behind them, and quite literally—Lukas was still shrieking, still screeching, and Ludwig wondered if he had even stopped in the long hours they had driven.</p>
  <p>Magnus came trotting up, blubbering incomprehensibly, and all Ludwig managed to catch from him was, 'Is he alive?'</p>
  <p>If Magnus had inadvertently killed his best friend's brother, he would have had some kind of mental breakdown, from the look of him in that moment.</p>
  <p>Lukas was still screaming when he followed them inside. Was screeching then in Norwegian or whatever, and Ludwig was glad because he still wanted to beat the hell out of him and maybe it was better that he couldn't understand what Lukas was saying.</p>
  <p>Berwald came tumbling down the stairs at the commotion, hair messy and glasses lopsided, eyes wide and breathing through his mouth, and Ludwig found his gaze in an instant. Ludwig opened his mouth, and lost his voice, turning his eyes back straight ahead as he and Timo lugged Gilbert in and threw him down onto Lukas' bed. Poor Lukas; his bedroom being on the bottom floor made it a magnet for trouble.</p>
  <p>As soon as Gilbert was settled, Timo clapped Ludwig's back, and said, "I'll go get the doctor. I'll be back, quick. Don't worry. It's gonna be alright."</p>
  <p>Needed to believe that.</p>
  <p>Timo was gone, and Ludwig sat down on the bed beside Gilbert, ever pressing his wound as he watched the chaos through the door.</p>
  <p>Magnus and Berwald and Lukas, Berwald utterly lost and trying to figure out what was happening, Lukas still bellowing, Magnus standing there between them speaking softly and gesturing a bit.</p>
  <p>Lukas just wouldn't stop.</p>
  <p>Shouting. It was hurting his head, and Ludwig stood up just long enough to slam the door shut and try to block out some of it.</p>
  <p>He tried to focus on Gilbert. Was gonna live. For sure. Gilbert was invincible, had always said so, and if Ludwig could survive such a worse shot, then this would be nothing for stronger Gilbert.</p>
  <p>He knew it.</p>
  <p>Shortly after, Lukas literally kicked the door open, and Ludwig jumped up in a fright, thrusting himself in front of Gilbert, afraid that Lukas was going to kill him. But no—Lukas just stalked around, took up a bag, and started throwing his belongings into it.</p>
  <p>Oh...</p>
  <p>He was so <em>mad </em>at Lukas, but god, he didn't want him to <em>leave</em>, didn't, because they were supposed to stay together. Ludwig watched him cramming everything into his bag, and then he came over, shoved Ludwig out of the way, yanked open the chest, and began tucking away all of his cables and wires.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's face fell, and so did his head.</p>
  <p>Magnus came in, and began pleading to Lukas, desperately, whispering and murmuring and coaxing away in Danish, and Lukas didn't once answer him. Magnus looked on the verge of tears, and at one point actually clasped his hands together and begged, but Lukas primly ignored him.</p>
  <p>Ludwig sat on the edge of the bed shortly after, as Lukas finished up, and didn't say a word.</p>
  <p>Loud, heavy footsteps, and then Lukas was gone, Magnus on his heels. The front door slammed. More footsteps, running out after Lukas. Magnus, no doubt, trying desperately to cling to his one partner. Could hear Lukas screaming again, but this time very far away and from outside. And then nothing.</p>
  <p>Just silence.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't need anyone to really say it, because he glimpsed Magnus walking past the door, face buried in his hands, Berwald behind him and looking dazed, and he knew.</p>
  <p>Lukas was gone.</p>
  <p>Timo came back at last, doctor in tow, and didn't seem too broken up at all to realize Lukas was gone. Ludwig looked up and saw his wide, slanted smirk. Happy as hell to be rid of the thorn in his side. Ludwig couldn't worry about it, any of it, keeping his gaze entirely on Gilbert as the doctor tended him.</p>
  <p>A long hour, as the doctor fussed and cleaned, and then he stitched the wound up, and Ludwig knew that Gilbert was going to be alright, just from the carefree look on the doctor's face.</p>
  <p>Was gonna kiss Magnus on the lips for his shit aim, he swore it. Just not right now, with Magnus mourning Lukas' departure.</p>
  <p>The doctor left, clapping Timo's hand as he went, and Ludwig lied down beside of Gilbert, arm over his chest and burying his face in Gilbert's neck. Still couldn't believe he was really here, and it was quite overwhelming. Having Gilbert back, when he had known in his heart the moment he boarded that train that he would never see this man again—no words for that.</p>
  <p>Just wished it could last, that wonderful feeling.</p>
  <p>Berwald came in at last, no doubt having been brought up to speed by Timo. He sat himself on the edge of the bed opposite Ludwig, stared down at them, studying Gilbert quite intently. Could see in Berwald's flitting gaze that Berwald was trying to see similarities between Gilbert and Ludwig, but that was pointless because there really weren't any. No one would have known they were brothers had they not been informed prior. That had always made Ludwig a bit more self-conscious. Looked up to Gilbert so much in childhood and could see none of himself there in him.</p>
  <p>After a thick silence, Berwald just reached out and rested his heavy palm on the side of Ludwig's head, and Ludwig tried damn hard not to start crying again.</p>
  <p>Berwald sat there with him until he fell asleep, and didn't say a word.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig woke again, well past dawn, Berwald was gone and Gilbert was still unconscious. Rather, it was Timo who sat there on the edge of the bed, looking rather exhausted, having no doubt spent all night coddling Magnus and trying to keep him from having that mental break that had seemed imminent.</p>
  <p>Timo held Ludwig's gaze, and said, quietly, "So, what do you want us to do?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned his eyes to sleeping Gilbert, still clinging to him as he was, and exhaled.</p>
  <p>What could he do?</p>
  <p>Timo tried, "When he wakes up, you two can have your little reunion. Say what you need to say. Whatever. Just, you know... You gotta make sure he never says anything or tries to figure out where we are, or we're dead, one way or another. Can you do that? If you want him to stay a few days, that's fine. You guys can have some time together, explain to him that you're gonna be a goner if he opens his mouth, and then we can drive him back. He can go right to the Germans, no problem."</p>
  <p>That sounded great.</p>
  <p>There was just one big problem.</p>
  <p>Took Ludwig a long time to gather the courage to say, weakly, "When he wakes up and realizes I'm alive... When he finds out what I did, it won't be the other rebels I have to worry about killing me. He's gonna—" A squint of his eyes, a momentary collapse of his composure. "Oh. He's gonna <em>hate </em>me, Timo, you don't even know. He's gonna— If he's able to, he'll shoot me, once he finds out what I did. I don't know what to do. We can't send him back, either way. Either he looks for me and gets me killed, or he sends someone to kill me. I don't know what to do."</p>
  <p>The crinkle of concern in Timo's brow.</p>
  <p>A lower tone.</p>
  <p>"Let's tie his hands, then. Just in case."</p>
  <p>Ludwig could only nod.</p>
  <p>It was the worst feeling, lying there atop his brother's chest as Timo took rope and tied Gilbert's hands there above him, because Gilbert wouldn't be safe to be around when he was conscious. Gilbert would try to bring the house down when he knew, and everyone in here along with it.</p>
  <p>If they thought Ludwig had raised hell...</p>
  <p>They didn't know Gilbert.</p>
  <p>Timo looked worried, and Timo was so rarely worried anymore, so confident as he always was, and when Magnus came in shortly after, he saw Gilbert's binds.</p>
  <p>A weak laugh.</p>
  <p>"Guess he's not gonna be as friendly as you were, huh?"</p>
  <p>Magnus was staring at Ludwig quite desperately, as if he were worried somehow that Ludwig was never going to speak to him again. How vulnerable Magnus must have felt in that moment, Lukas gone and having shot his best friend's brother. Magnus must have felt the noose around his neck.</p>
  <p>To comfort him, as best he could for his own nausea, Ludwig retorted, gently, "Who could ever be as friendly as me? I was angelic to you guys."</p>
  <p>Magnus' halfhearted smile.</p>
  <p>"That's right. I forgot. You were a perfect gentleman."</p>
  <p>Felt ill.</p>
  <p>Before he left that day, Magnus uttered, so deeply, "I'm <em>sorry</em>. I didn't mean for this to happen."</p>
  <p>Just as deeply, Ludwig replied, "I know. It wasn't your fault."</p>
  <p>Magnus seemed glad to hear it, and trudged off.</p>
  <p>All Ludwig could really do now was wait, and try to prepare for the storm, because it was going to be violent and inescapable. But Gilbert didn't come to that day, ever sleeping, and that night Berwald slept on the floor beneath Ludwig, to keep him company and murmur to him until he fell asleep.</p>
  <p>Yet again, in the morning, Berwald was gone. Ludwig kissed Gilbert's cheek, and whispered to him. Afternoon came, and that was when Gilbert started moving a little. Deeper breathing. Would wake up before long.</p>
  <p>As Ludwig fretted over the inevitable confrontation, someone suddenly cast a shadow over him as they blocked the door.</p>
  <p>Ludwig glanced up.</p>
  <p>Lukas stood there in the doorframe, dark circles under his eyes and lips pursed and hair sticking out to high heaven, the black eye Timo had given him quite stark, cheeks glinting with stubble, and Ludwig just gave him a tired stare and then looked away. Lukas stood there for a long time, and didn't say a single word.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't bother asking, 'I thought you had left?'</p>
  <p>Who cared? Lukas was here, and that was all. Why he had come back was inconsequential.</p>
  <p>Other things to worry about.</p>
  <p>Ludwig started pacing shortly after, back and forth, too scared to sit still, and then he threw himself into the chair when pacing made him dizzy. Lukas just stood there yet, quietly observing.</p>
  <p>His head was killing him.</p>
  <p>He stood again, and paced more. Felt as if he were going crazy.</p>
  <p>Gilbert made noises often, and it was clear that before the day was over he was going to wake up. And that <em>terrified</em> Ludwig.</p>
  <p>He sat down in the chair, stared at Gilbert unconscious there on the bed, and began tapping his palms upon his knees as that awful fear and nausea rose up. Oh, god, Gilbert, what was he gonna <em>say</em>? Couldn't face him, just couldn't—</p>
  <p>Ludwig bolted upright then, so fast that Lukas actually jumped in alarm there in the doorframe, and turned on his heel, stalking out of the room and straight back to the kitchen. Lukas followed him as he went, and he could feel Magnus watching him, but Ludwig was one wrong move away from vomiting and wrenched open the cabinet to pull down a bottle of vodka.</p>
  <p>His hands were shaking so terribly when he poured a glass that he was surprised he didn't drop either of them to the floor.</p>
  <p>Lukas was at his side, staring over at him as intently as always, but Ludwig just put the glass back straight, and then another one, and then one more for good measure. He put his hand over his mouth when that last one threatened to come back up, and Lukas' hand was suddenly on his back, running up and down as Ludwig hung his head and damn near burst into tears.</p>
  <p>Was so scared to face Gilbert. Was so <em>ashamed</em>.</p>
  <p>Lukas didn't say a word, just stood there with his hand on Ludwig's back, and Ludwig figured that everything was gonna haveta be behind them. In the past. They could only ever move forward, and it wasn't the first time that he and Lukas had ever stood on opposite sides, not the first time they had tried to hurt each other, although it had certainly never been that intense.</p>
  <p>Lukas was here now, they were all alive, and it was done.</p>
  <p>Took him a long while to straighten his face and open his eyes. He poured one more glass, when the last finally settled, and Lukas snorted a little then, and teased him, gently, murmuring, "I'd say slow down or else you're gonna be in the bag by the time he wakes up, but I think that's the point, huh? That gonna be enough for ya? Need me to go out and get another bottle?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig, wincing as he struggled to swallow against his nausea, finally barked a laugh and looked over at Lukas.</p>
  <p>"If I send you out, it's gonna be to get me something a lot stronger than this. I'm not gonna wanna remember a damn thing come tomorrow."</p>
  <p>Damn—almost lost the battle with tears again.</p>
  <p>He loved Gilbert so much, but in the end, when everything was said and done, Ludwig was <em>terrified </em>of Gilbert, absolutely scared to death of him, and couldn't really fathom facing him now, after it all. To stand before proud Gilbert and admit what he had done.</p>
  <p>Lukas' face softened, just a little, and it was one of the strangest moments in his life, when Lukas took the bottle from his hand, set it aside, and hugged him. Not one of those tight, exuberant embraces he sometimes gave after they had had rough times. Just a hug. Gentle, slow. The way a mother might have hugged her child. Lukas pressed his face into Ludwig's shoulder, and Ludwig immediately buried his own into Lukas' neck and started cryin', because he was pathetic. Hadn't been hugged like that since he had been a little kid, and felt like one then, scared of his big brother and so overwhelmed.</p>
  <p>Lukas held him there for a long time, silent and still, and let him cry it out.</p>
  <p>When Ludwig calmed down a little, if only because he was already tipsy, Lukas finally spoke up, and Ludwig was so certain that his voice was a little thick, a little shaky, but that could have just been the alcohol.</p>
  <p>"We used to be friends. Sometimes I just forget that. Sometimes, I just want to help my country so much that I think I'm willing to become everything I'm afraid of. All of us. Something's wrong with us. But I— I hate you sometimes, but I love you. All of you guys. Even Timo, if you can believe it. You guys mean more to me than that."</p>
  <p>They were <em>crazy</em>, all of them. He and Lukas pointed guns at each other one day and hugged the next. The war had made them all lose their marbles. They weren't the people they used to be not so long ago.</p>
  <p>So Ludwig just sniveled in Lukas' shirt and mumbled, "Likewise."</p>
  <p>Lukas seemed satisfied, and he pulled back, jostled Ludwig until he looked up, and when their eyes met, Lukas kissed Ludwig's forehead and said, in a very dangerous whisper, "If you tell Timo I said that I swear to god I <em>will </em>shoot you."</p>
  <p>Ludwig snorted, but felt a little better, as Lukas no doubt had intended.</p>
  <p>A clap on Ludwig's arm for courage, and Ludwig finally went back into the bedroom, the bottle of vodka coming along with him for the ride. He sat there in the chair, taking swig after swig until the sun was low and his anxiety was lower. His hands shook, but he couldn't say whether it was the alcohol or the nerves that made them so unsteady.</p>
  <p>By the time Gilbert started shifting and breathing more irregularly, Ludwig was already drunk as could be. Couldn't even see straight. The bottle was empty, and Ludwig threw it aside.</p>
  <p>Couldn't face Gilbert stone-cold sober.</p>
  <p>He staggered to his feet, nearly fell on his face, and somehow he made it over to the bed, collapsed upon it, and he curled up onto Gilbert then, burying his face in Gilbert's chest and pretending he was a little kid again. Felt like one, sure enough, so snuggling up to his big brother hardly seemed shameful. Too drunk to be embarrassed.</p>
  <p>The click of the door, but Ludwig didn't look up to see who it was, clenching Gilbert's shirt.</p>
  <p>The scent of Gilbert was remarkably comforting. His heartbeat. That familiarity. Family. Wished Gilbert's hands hadn't been bound then, so that he could have thrown Gilbert's arm over him. Couldn't untie him; not safe. Once Gilbert knew...</p>
  <p>Oh. Felt sick.</p>
  <p>Gilbert was the proudest soldier Ludwig had ever known, brave and fearless. Ludwig defecting would hurt Gilbert so much more than him dying had.</p>
  <p>Deep, guttural moaning. A sharp inhale. Shifting and restless motions. Ludwig could only lie there atop Gilbert's chest and wait, clinging to him and preparing himself for the outburst. Couldn't, however he tried. Couldn't brace himself in the way he needed to.</p>
  <p>A scrunch of Gilbert's face in pain, and then, at long last, he opened his eyes, just a crack. No movement then; Gilbert just squinted at the ceiling, clearly trying to come back into some sort of clarity. It seemed to take him a while to realize that he was actually awake.</p>
  <p>Ludwig didn't twitch or speak.</p>
  <p>Nausea. His throat clenched up as his bravery collapsed.</p>
  <p>From there, it was only a few more minutes before Gilbert's head started to clear, and his eyes opened ever more. Gilbert realized then that someone was on top of him, and he at last turned his head. Those eyes once more pinned Ludwig down. A crease of confusion in Gilbert's brow.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was seeing double by then, which actually made his anxiety rise because now he was gonna have <em>two</em> damn Gilberts trying to murder him, shit.</p>
  <p>An inhale, and then Gilbert rasped, weakly, "Hey. Lutz?"</p>
  <p>Ludwig very aggressively cuddled against Gilbert then, because he knew this would be the last time. Tried to drag it out, tried to delay the inevitable, tried to revel in this moment for as long as he could.</p>
  <p>Gilbert's arms moved, as he tried to lift his hand but found them bound.</p>
  <p>It surprised Ludwig that the first thing Gilbert was concerned about wasn't his tied hands. Instead, he looked straight at Ludwig, those beautiful eyes running endlessly over his face, and then he broke into a smile.</p>
  <p>"God, Lutz. Am I dreamin' or what? Did I die? Is that really <em>you</em>?"</p>
  <p>Hurt.</p>
  <p>Ludwig lifted his head high enough to kiss Gilbert quickly upon the lips, as Gilbert always had him, and he somehow found his voice long enough to utter, "It's me, Gilbert."</p>
  <p>The smile turned into a beam, half-dead though Gilbert was.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just counted the seconds.</p>
  <p>"Holy shit. This is real? You're alive? Really? I can't— How? What happened? They told me you were dead. Oh, Christ, you don't know, when they came looking for me, I swear I coulda died. I didn't know I could fuckin' cry so much. I—I took my leave, I went home, and I had to go and watch them chisel your name there next to mom and dad, and..."</p>
  <p>Gilbert trailed off, voice thick and eyes bleary from something other than trauma, and he shook his head as Ludwig ran his hand over Gilbert's cheek. Gilbert pressed into it, as if still trying to confirm to himself that Ludwig was, indeed, actually real and alive.</p>
  <p>His hand was warm, and Gilbert seemed satisfied at that.</p>
  <p>"You're alive. Oh. I missed you so much. Standin' there in that cemetery, I... I just wanted to see you again. I was alone. Everyone was dead, so I didn't even see the point. I tried to— You'd be so <em>mad </em>at me, if you knew how many times I tried to get myself killed. I'm so fuckin' happy I failed now, god, knowing you're still alive. Oh, Lutz, you're really <em>alive</em>! I don't know what to say. I still don't know if I'm dreamin'."</p>
  <p>Ludwig felt the burn on his face. Not drunkenness so much as shame.</p>
  <p>Gilbert rolled over onto his side, still ignoring his bound hands, and their faces pressed together then, as Gilbert kissed his cheek, his forehead, his lips, his nose, everything. Gilbert nuzzled him so hard that Ludwig thought he might have caused a nosebleed. Just couldn't seem to stop, and Ludwig just clenched Gilbert as tightly as he could to his chest the entire while and tried not to dissolve into a drunken sobbing mess.</p>
  <p>They spent long minutes like that, Ludwig too drunk to really focus and Gilbert too high on this earth-shattering revelation to realize what was really happening. Didn't Gilbert realize yet what was going <em>on</em>? Why wasn't he asking questions? Why didn't he seem to care about his bound hands? Why wasn't he pressing Ludwig for more information?</p>
  <p>Oh, he didn't want to say it. He wanted Gilbert to just magically figure it out on his own so he wouldn't have to <em>say </em>it.</p>
  <p>Gilbert kissed his lips one more time, pushed their foreheads together, and whispered, earnestly, "I <em>love </em>you."</p>
  <p>His entire life, Ludwig had loved hearing Gilbert say 'I love you', even as he had never been able to say it himself. His favorite moment, and even though he could never say it, Gilbert had always known how he felt, because he tried so hard to show it. Even if he fell short, Gilbert always knew, as a good brother would.</p>
  <p>Ludwig nearly fell apart, so nearly, and did sniffle a little, as he struggled with those encroaching tears.</p>
  <p>And maybe Ludwig would have just put it off forever, would have pretended everything was alright, if there hadn't been a heavy step on the floor then. The creaking of the floorboards drew Gilbert's attention, he pulled back, and his eyes lifted over Ludwig's head.</p>
  <p>Even through his intoxication, Ludwig could see the dilation of Gilbert's pupils, the inhale, the pulse in his neck hammering, and he watched in dismay as Gilbert came out of the elation of walking with the dead. In a bad way. Gilbert jerked upright, sitting himself up at the waist with a pained wince, eyes wide and focused, pumped full of adrenaline, and Ludwig sat up clumsily with him, looking over his shoulder and trying to focus long enough to see.</p>
  <p>Berwald and his twin, standing there in the doorframe, and Ludwig hated the sight of it, and that was most unfortunate because Berwald having a twin any other time would have been spectacular.</p>
  <p>Damn. Guess the game was over.</p>
  <p>It was then, seeing Berwald, that Gilbert finally and truly realized that his hands were bound, as he twisted them restlessly, looking very quickly around the room and taking in his surroundings, suddenly very alert and very aware. Already plotting.</p>
  <p>Gilbert's movements then were just too fast for drunk Ludwig, his shifting and observing, and all Ludwig could think of to do was just crawl clumsily forward and wrap his arms around Gilbert's neck.</p>
  <p>Was absolutely hammered by then, completely in the bag, under the table, and was well beyond rationality. Knew he needed to tell Gilbert the truth, to tell him where he was at and why, but all he wanted to do then was cling to Gilbert stubbornly and bury his face in Gilbert's neck. Didn't want to let him go, because once he did, it was forever.</p>
  <p>Ludwig thought that maybe if he nuzzled Gilbert furiously enough Gilbert would just calm down and forget Berwald was there.</p>
  <p>Hardly. Gilbert suddenly lifted up his bound hands, clenched Ludwig's sleeve to yank his arm down, and the next thing plastered Ludwig knew Gilbert had somehow shoved Ludwig behind him, facing Berwald very bravely and very aggressively.</p>
  <p>Berwald took another step forward, and jumped a little when Gilbert very abruptly screamed at him, in that intimidating voice, "Hey! What's going on? The fuck are you? You Russian? I ain't scared of you, you big ugly son of a bitch! I'm not tellin' ya nothing, so don't bother! Get outta here! I'm busy!"</p>
  <p>Berwald seemed shocked, and then slumped a little and looked disheartened.</p>
  <p>Sad.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried to distract Gilbert, but Gilbert just twisted at the waist, pushed his head into Ludwig's shoulder to try and maneuver him farther behind him, protectively, and his voice lowered to a whisper.</p>
  <p>"Hey— I get it. You got caught. They caught you. I get it now. That's why they thought ya were dead, 'cause they couldn't find you."</p>
  <p>What Gilbert said next made Ludwig bow his head in miserable shame.</p>
  <p>"Oh, Lutz. I <em>swear</em>, if I'd known you were still alive, I woulda looked for ya, I swear. Oh, you gotta believe me, I swear I would've looked. I wouldn't have given up 'til I found ya, even if I had to break rank and go on my own, I swear. I'm—I'm so <em>sorry</em> I didn't try to look for you. I never even thought about it, they said you were dead, and I just believed it. I'm sorry."</p>
  <p>Gilbert still didn't seem to notice that he was bound and Ludwig wasn't.</p>
  <p>Berwald shifted his weight, and stood patiently silent. Waiting. Watching. Keeping guard, in case Gilbert turned violent and hard to handle. Which was an absolute guarantee. Would rather have had all four of them there, honestly, to subdue Gilbert when his rage finally broke. Berwald alone wasn't going to be enough.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried to steady himself, about to topple over the edge of the bed as he was in his stupor, and he clenched the back of Gilbert's shirt, and tried to speak at last.</p>
  <p>"Gilbert. Listen. It's not—"</p>
  <p>"Don't worry," Gilbert interrupted. "We'll get outta here, no matter what. I've got you back now, so I'll keep going. Hell, guess I don't need to die after all. Fuck this—I'll get us out of here. What are the chances of us being captured together, huh? It was meant to be. We can do anything together. We always have. I'll take you back home. You'll be a hero, you know. Christ, how long's it been now? Three damn years. Three years. I can't believe I didn't even look. I feel so damn stupid."</p>
  <p>Ludwig felt his face crumple, but he somehow gathered himself and lifted his eyes, found Gilbert's gaze, and managed to whisper, "I can't go back home, Gilbert."</p>
  <p>His voice was slurred by then, and he'd be surprised if he sounded as coherent to Gilbert as he did up in his head.</p>
  <p>Gilbert scoffed, butting his head once more into Ludwig's in his fervor.</p>
  <p>"Hey! You forget who I am? Don't worry about it! If anybody can get out of this, it's us, right? I promise, I'll get you home again. Whatever it takes. I'll get you back home, where you belong. You're stayin' there this time. I won't let you out of my sights ever again."</p>
  <p>Ludwig pressed his forehead back into Gilbert's and just wished, above all else, that he had just followed after Timo when he had run that night, and that he hadn't looked back. Shoulda just did what he was supposed to. He always got everyone into trouble, it seemed, no matter what he chose to do. Whatever path he took, he only seemed to bring disaster.</p>
  <p>Ludwig took Gilbert's face in his hands, and tried again.</p>
  <p>"No, Gilbert, I... I <em>can't</em> go home. You don't understand. They caught me because—"</p>
  <p>"It's not your <em>fault</em>," Gilbert interrupted, playing the role of big brother and protector yet again, "It's not! Don't even worry about it, you're not—you're so brave, you know? You're so fuckin' brave, just like me. It's not your fault."</p>
  <p>Not listening. Gilbert never <em>listened</em>.</p>
  <p>"No, Gilbert, please—"</p>
  <p>"Just sit tight. I'll think of something."</p>
  <p>No use.</p>
  <p>Gilbert just ignored Ludwig entirely, and seemed content to reaffirm to Ludwig that this capture hadn't been his fault, that they would get out, that they would escape, be together, as they always had been and promised they always would be, and no matter how hard Ludwig tried to speak Gilbert just overrode him.</p>
  <p>As he always had.</p>
  <p>Drunk and tired and frustrated and <em>devastated</em>, Ludwig just pressed his face into Gilbert's collar, hands still gripping Gilbert's face, and finally started crying. Couldn't get him to listen, and wasn't brave enough to say it. Gilbert whispered in his ear, reassuring him, and Ludwig wanted nothing more than to sink down into some black hole and die.</p>
  <p>Seeing the impasse they were at, Berwald finally took another heavy step forward, opened his mouth, and said, sternly, "Just tell him, Ludwig."</p>
  <p>It was hearing Ludwig's name coming from Berwald's mouth that somehow seemed to quiet Gilbert at last. Gilbert snapped his head over, breaking free of Ludwig's hands holding him, and stared at Berwald through wide eyes, as if he were <em>offended</em> in some way. As if Gilbert thought it ghastly and horrifying that Ludwig's 'captor' knew his name.</p>
  <p>Oh—</p>
  <p>Ludwig lifted his head, steeled the slivers of his will, swallowed, and managed to say through his tears, so lowly that it almost didn't come out at all, "I don't <em>wanna </em>go home, Gilbert. I can't. I won't."</p>
  <p>Gilbert's head whipped back around to Ludwig, that same expression still on his face, and Ludwig hated having that awful look directed at him. He tried to stop crying then, because this was already humiliating enough and he didn't want to just writhe around in the dirt any more than absolutely necessary.</p>
  <p>When he gathered himself, as well as he was ever going to, Ludwig carried on in that heavy slur, as Gilbert's gaze threatened to set him on fire.</p>
  <p>"They caught me because I was out— I was gonna jump off the fuckin' <em>train</em>, Gilbert. I couldn't tell <em>you</em>! Not <em>you</em>! I waited until we got into Sweden, and I was gonna jump, but I didn't have time, and they took me, and... I just stayed with them. I didn't know where else to go. We fight, we do. I still fight, Gilbert, I really do. I tried to make you proud, so I kept fighting."</p>
  <p>Gilbert's jaw clenched, his pulse started racing, his brow lowered and he started breathing heavily through his nose, and Ludwig knew he was just a moment away from the eruption of the volcano. Could see the gears grinding away relentlessly in Gilbert's head, putting all of the pieces together, finishing the puzzle, and the picture that was becoming clear to Gilbert was utterly infuriating to him.</p>
  <p>He spoke then, and his voice was low, deep, forced and gruff.</p>
  <p>"So, you— You weren't captured. You just turned? Is that what you're saying? You just waited for the chance to become a traitor? You're fighting against us— That's why you were there. You're... All I this time I thought you were dead, and you were just out here, betraying us all? Sabotaging us. You jumped. You're fighting for the Reds? You were there. That explosion. That was <em>you</em>? Ha. I <em>cried </em>for you. For months, I sat there and <em>cried </em>for you, and you were—"</p>
  <p>Gilbert cut off abruptly, made a strange, jerking moving, and Ludwig realized that Gilbert had tried to punch him but had been impeded by his bound hands.</p>
  <p>Oh, no, please, not this, knew it was coming, had always known, but hearing it just hurt too much, couldn't stand it.</p>
  <p>Traitor. That word cut so deep.</p>
  <p>"Please," Ludwig beseeched, thickly, as he grabbed in vain at Gilbert's bound hands and tried to plead with him, to reason with him, to make him <em>understand</em>, if only a little, "Please! I couldn't stay! Gilbert, I couldn't, not after—"</p>
  <p>Ludwig made the mistake of reaching out then and trying to take Gilbert's face once more in his hands, and hell, Ludwig was too damn drunk to even really know what happened, too slow to keep up with Gilbert's fast motions, but somehow Gilbert had maneuvered himself around and kicked Ludwig in the face and right over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.</p>
  <p>He fell hard, and Berwald actually gasped aloud, rushing forward and kneeling down behind of him, grabbing him under the arms and sitting him up straight as blood poured from his nose.</p>
  <p>Ludwig was too dazed to feel the pain, at the least the pain from his nose because he sure as hell felt his heart breaking, and he stared up at Gilbert miserably. Berwald muttered under his breath, twisting Ludwig's head in his direction and inspecting damage, and Ludwig didn't need to be sober to realize that his nose was more than likely broken.</p>
  <p>Ludwig broke away from Berwald's hands, sat up straighter and pulled himself to his knees, and though it was very risky, he grabbed the edge of the bed and crept forward. Berwald was directly beside of him, clearly ready to intercept any foot that came flying, but Gilbert made no more moves.</p>
  <p>He just straightened up, lifted his chin proudly, set his face into utter stoniness, hardened his eyes, and, at long last, Gilbert said those words that Ludwig had feared above all else :</p>
  <p>"I wish you'd'a died instead. I was proud of you that way."</p>
  <p>And that was that.</p>
  <p>Gilbert would speak no more.</p>
  <p>Ludwig pressed his forehead into the edge of the mattress, squinted his eyes, and whined, pitifully, "I'm <em>sorry</em>. I just couldn't stay after that night. That was it for me, Gilbert. I'm sorry. I tried so hard to be like you. But I'm not. I just wanted to make you proud, but— If I had stayed after that, I woulda thrown myself off of the bridge. I thought about it every day after <em>that</em>. But I didn't wanna hurt you like that, so I just jumped off the train instead."</p>
  <p>Gilbert would rather have had him jump off the bridge, though, wouldn't he, and Ludwig just took one shaky breath then and burst into tears.</p>
  <p>Gilbert was immobile, and unmovable. Unreachable. Untouchable.</p>
  <p>Gone.</p>
  <p>Gilbert wished that Ludwig had died on the train.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had wished once that he had died that night.</p>
  <p>It had been raining.</p>
  <hr/>
  <p>Not at first.</p>
  <p>The skies had been clear early in the day.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had stared out of the window, chin in palm and feeling another one of those random bouts of sadness. Gilbert had been gone all day.</p>
  <p>Most days now consisted of Ludwig staring out of the window and wringing his hands, feeling anxious and restless and always on edge, jitteriness fighting with melancholy. Couldn't decide if he was nervous or devastated at any given moment. His mood swings had never been unknown to him or Gilbert, but they certainly had been getting worse.</p>
  <p>Couldn't sleep.</p>
  <p>Harder and harder every day to fight off the rising panic, as he watched the world around him shift and change and become something he no longer recognized.</p>
  <p>Gilbert loved it; it terrified Ludwig.</p>
  <p>They had just come back down south the year before, having spent the three years prior at the Danish border for one of Gilbert's fancies. There, Ludwig had been able to go to the beach and pretend everything was alright. Stare off into the sea and drift away in his head.</p>
  <p>Couldn't do that anymore, back here at home.</p>
  <p>Walking down the street and seeing those signs on the doors, barring entry to non-Germans. Turning his head and seeing old men being forced off of the sidewalk and into the gutter, because they were Jewish. Glancing over, to see a happy family on a bench, which proudly proclaimed that it was for Germans only.</p>
  <p>Gilbert always walked with his head high, one arm behind his back and so commanding, so sure, so confident. A brave soldier, as always, as Ludwig walked beside of him and stared at the sidewalk, because looking at the sidewalk made him feel less sick. When he looked down, he couldn't see the shop signs and the benches and the people in the gutter.</p>
  <p>In school, every few months it seemed that one of his classmates just...vanished. Never came to school, and never came back. Ludwig stared at the empty desk, silently, and wondered if <em>his </em>desk would one day be the empty one.</p>
  <p>He wasn't <em>right</em>, and if Gilbert ever found out—</p>
  <p>Steadily, Gilbert's friends became increasingly more dangerous. Men in brown shirts that always carried guns, that drank so much, and Gilbert drank all of the time, too, and sometimes they came into the house and Ludwig was so certain that they were all cranked up on some kind of drug. He hid upstairs in his room, listening to them shouting and laughing below. Sometimes, in the moments Ludwig couldn't escape, their eyes would follow him, as Gilbert blabbered away obliviously, and Ludwig would feel the hairs on his arms stand up. Paranoid that they were on to him somehow. Had nightmares about himself behind barbed wire. Pink triangles. So many people just <em>disappeared </em>these days.</p>
  <p>Terror.</p>
  <p>Every year was worse and worse, and when Ludwig had turned seventeen in October of '38, he decided to join the army, too, because Gilbert looked so untouchable and impervious, so proud. Gilbert didn't see anything wrong, didn't think twice about what was happening, and Ludwig joined because he wanted to be like that. Wanted to be like Gilbert, wanted to feel that assurance. Didn't want to be so nervous and sick and sad all the time. Everyone said things were great, and he wanted to feel that way, too.</p>
  <p>Was that so much to ask?</p>
  <p>Gilbert never looked uncertain or afraid.</p>
  <p>Ludwig had walked to the store one weekend and had seen some of his classmates there on the street, laughing and shouting, and he had looked over to see them coming up to an old woman who had sat down upon a bench in exhaustion, and they taunted her, berated her, because she had sat on the German bench as there were no others in sight. She wasn't 'German'. Ludwig froze still, staring over in horror, unable to look away if only for the sheer audacity, as one of them reached out and took her cane and threw it into the middle of the street. They shouted at her until she stood up, and she was forced to limp along, and god, that awful look on her face, that humiliation and heartbreak and hopelessness. Ludwig wanted more than anything to run into the street and grab her cane and give it to her. That burning sting in his eyes. But he blinked it away, and walked on. He didn't do anything, because he wasn't brave, and he wasn't right.</p>
  <p>Just wanted to be like Gilbert, oh, because he couldn't <em>take </em>anymore of it.</p>
  <p>When he stood there before Gilbert that day and told him that he had signed himself over to the army, Gilbert's pride had been unrivaled, after the brief surge of panic and anger. Gilbert had been angry at Ludwig for not asking his permission, but had been so proud and so happy afterwards that Ludwig had felt at long last a bit of that comfort he sought.</p>
  <p>Ludwig just lied in bed every night and waited to be summoned, praying it would be soon because every single day was harder. Needed to feel like Gilbert did, because he could find no justification in getting out of bed otherwise. When he was alone, he stayed under the blankets and sometimes cried himself literally senseless, until he fell asleep in exhaustion.</p>
  <p>A few weeks later, in the beginning of November, Ludwig found himself sitting sideways on the couch every day after class, staring out of the window and feeling so <em>low</em>. Had no motivation. Didn't want to go out. Didn't want to move. Just wanted to lie there and sleep all day. Didn't even want to go to school anymore at all, but Gilbert dragged him out of bed and shoved him along every morning.</p>
  <p>But that day—</p>
  <p>When Gilbert came back home <em>that </em>day, the sun was low in the horizon, and clouds had started rolling in from the west. Thunder, in the distance.</p>
  <p>A jingling of the doorknob.</p>
  <p>Ludwig turned his head in time to see Gilbert bursting in, wild-haired and bleary-eyed, his gruff, dangerous friends in tow.</p>
  <p>Unfocused eyes settled on his own.</p>
  <p>"Lutz! C'mon! We were out having fun. Hey! Come on, get out of the house for once, eh? The city's havin' some fun tonight! Join us. You're so boring all the time! Stop wastin' your life away in bed. Come with me. I'll show you how to be a soldier."</p>
  <p>Before he could even open his mouth, a hand on his arm yanked him up.</p>
  <p>Alcohol on Gilbert's breath. Gilbert's pupils were so dilated that his eyes were almost entirely black. Wasn't in his right mind then. Was in one of those highs, whatever it was, and his grip on Ludwig's arm had been inescapable. His friends were behind him, laughing and looking amped up, those men in the brown shirts, and Ludwig had been petrified.</p>
  <p>What kind of fun had they been having? Didn't wanna know, and Ludwig dug his heels into the floor, eyes darting between Gilbert and his friends. He didn't want to <em>go</em>, didn't, but those men terrified him more than anything, and their guns were always gleaming in their belts.</p>
  <p>Wanted to say no, but, just like with everything else happening around him, Ludwig wasn't brave enough, and stayed silent. He stood passively still, as he always did, as Gilbert stood him up straight and put a jacket on him and then shoved a gun into his pocket.</p>
  <p>Could have thrown up right there, and his hands were shaking so badly that even clenching them into fists wasn't stopping them.</p>
  <p>Still, when Gilbert led him to the door, he put his boots on, and didn't say a word.</p>
  <p>Those men were watching him, staring at him, studying him, and he was so scared that if he put his foot down and said he didn't want to go out, that they would openly question Ludwig's loyalties and masculinity there in front of Gilbert, and then Gilbert would start thinking, and then—</p>
  <p>He'd disappear, too.</p>
  <p>He stayed silent.</p>
  <p>Gilbert dragged him out into the grey streets, as the last of the dim daylight faded. The distant thunder was as ominous as anything else, and with every street they passed, the quiet was broken by sounds of distant chaos. Shouting. His heart hammered so quickly that he was dizzy, and he just couldn't get out of Gilbert's tight grip, and Gilbert was smiling away, eagerly. Looking for trouble as always.</p>
  <p>They reached the main streets of the city, and it was as if everything in Ludwig shut down in a moment of absolute terror. Felt stupefied. Numb. Walking into the middle of a riot, and the constant lethargy and apathy and gloom he perpetually felt these days was washed away with horror.</p>
  <p>Couldn't move, helpless, and just let Gilbert pull him into the middle of it all.</p>
  <p>People everywhere, some laughing and some shrieking. The glow of a fire in the distance. Loud noises, banging, and the sounds of fighting off somewhere and all around.</p>
  <p>Gilbert shoved him forward into it all with a brisk laugh.</p>
  <p>"Go on, Ludwig! It's alright. We're just havin' some <em>fun</em>! You're a kid, but you never have any fun. Come on, live a little. You're young! Have fun!"</p>
  <p>Panic.</p>
  <p>Ludwig froze, motionless and feeling so helpless, as Gilbert's friends drifted away and raised hell all around him.</p>
  <p>Shattering glass. Noise all around. The world spun, too fast for him to keep up with. Too much goin' on, too much noise, too many people. Screaming. Laughing. Gunshots, somewhere in the distance.</p>
  <p>Sirens.</p>
  <p>Ludwig tried hard to focus, to understand what was happening, and it took his slow brain a long time to grasp that men were destroying Jewish shops. Breaking windows and ransacking everything within, others were setting fires and burning whatever they grabbed, and people were screaming.</p>
  <p>He stood frozen.</p>
  <p>Policemen were standing there on the corner, arms crossed over their chests and looking on, but they made absolutely no move to intervene. Ludwig looked around more and more, and saw more police here and there, some soldiers, and no one did a thing. They just chatted with each other, some of them smoking, and pretended nothing at all was happening.</p>
  <p>So dizzy, and Gilbert just kept yanking him along when he saw that Ludwig was just standing there and not engaging. His flight response couldn't even kick in, he was so <em>overwhelmed</em>. He just seized up, helpless and pitiful like a deer, and let Gilbert drag him along down the street.</p>
  <p>Glass crunched under his boots.</p>
  <p>The gun felt too heavy in his pocket. He hadn't even started basic training yet, why had Gilbert given him a gun—</p>
  <p>"Gilbert," he finally managed to utter, "I want to go home."</p>
  <p>Gilbert didn't hear his weak voice over the ruckus. Couldn't seem to find it again.</p>
  <p>A man ran down the street, screaming for help, as other men chased him and threw bottles and cans at him from behind, laughing.</p>
  <p>His chest kept closing up. Couldn't breathe at all.</p>
  <p>Gilbert happened to drag them by one window that hadn't yet been smashed, and took it upon himself to right that wrong, lifting up his leg and kicking the window with enough power to shatter it, clinging to Ludwig's arm for balance.</p>
  <p>He was going to be sick any minute now, he knew it.</p>
  <p>Finally, he managed to speak again, and grabbed Gilbert's shirt, saying, in a high-pitched whine, "Gilbert, <em>please</em>, I wanna go <em>home</em>, Gilbert—"</p>
  <p>Gilbert just shrugged him off, neatly ignoring him, too enthralled with the rioting to even notice his sick, terrified brother.</p>
  <p>Couldn't see anymore, from the awful sting of tears suddenly in his eyes.</p>
  <p>The rain started falling.</p>
  <p>Oh, he didn't wanna see any of this, he didn't, made him so sick. Gilbert looked so powerful and in control, and maybe that was the first time, taking everything in, that Ludwig wasn't so sure that he wanted to be like Gilbert after all.</p>
  <p>A woman was screaming for help, and Ludwig turned his head, bristled and jittery, and saw a man there hitting her, over and over, and then she fell to the ground, shielding her head, and the man started kicking her. Would no one do anything? Would he? Ludwig made an odd lurch, because he wanted to <em>help</em>, but Gilbert just started walking again and Ludwig, god help him, fell lax once more in his brother's hand and let himself be dragged.</p>
  <p>Tried so hard then to pretend that this wasn't real. He was just having a nightmare.</p>
  <p>A nightmare.</p>
  <p>They passed more policemen, and Gilbert held out his other hand and clapped theirs as he passed, uttering greeting.</p>
  <p>In front of those policemen, right there on the other side of the street, a man was being beaten by five or six others, pleading and crying. By the time Gilbert had dragged Ludwig onward, the man had stopped moving.</p>
  <p>The policemen chattered.</p>
  <p>They came to darker streets then, and Gilbert had slung his arm around Ludwig's shoulders, nearly strangling him in his enthusiasm, and said, "Come on, let's find <em>you </em>something to do."</p>
  <p>His greatest fear, and he could scarcely breathe then, and not from Gilbert's arm.</p>
  <p>He was pulled ever along, and then suddenly, from out of an alley came rushing two figures, blurry and moving too quickly for dumb Ludwig to process.</p>
  <p>Just saw a flash of steel as they nearly crashed into each other.</p>
  <p>"Whoa!" came Gilbert's immediate cry, so high on adrenaline and who knew what else that his reflexes were like those of a jungle cat, and he pulled his gun out and up so fast that Ludwig didn't even realize what was happening.</p>
  <p>When his hectic mind could grasp some clarity, he realized that they were standing in front of a man and woman, young, and they were both holding out guns, breathing heavily and eyes wide. They had been running away, no doubt, trying to escape the violence, and had turned the wrong corner and right into the worst sort of trouble.</p>
  <p>Gilbert reached out to punch Ludwig's side, and Ludwig knew that Gilbert was telling him to put his own gun up. He did, but only barely, nearly fumbling it from his pocket to the ground, and his arm was shaking so badly that he couldn't have hit anything he felt should he have tried.</p>
  <p>An awful, breathless impasse, as Gilbert and Ludwig held their guns out and so did the man and woman. It was the man who stood in front of Ludwig, and he had never been so scared in his life, never, couldn't think, couldn't focus.</p>
  <p>Just stared into that man's eyes.</p>
  <p>They were terrified, that much was obvious, and surely Ludwig looked the same. He glanced over, but Gilbert was as confident as ever, sneering away and stance very commanding. Gilbert wasn't scared, never was, and oh how Ludwig envied that.</p>
  <p>It was obvious that these two were Jewish, were trying to get out of the way, trying to avoid becoming like those being beaten in the street, and the man reached over to grab a handful of his girl's shirt, to steady her, because she was shaking as badly as Ludwig was.</p>
  <p>Gilbert scoffed, and suddenly his stance relaxed, he looked so casual, his shoulders dropped and so did his chin, and Ludwig felt hopeful, thought that Gilbert was just going to turn a blind eye to them and carry on. Let them get away. Why not? They hadn't done anything to anybody. They didn't want to get hurt, and didn't want to hurt anyone in turn.</p>
  <p>Just let them go.</p>
  <p>Ludwig's gun started lowering, so slowly.</p>
  <p>Had been hopeful that he would escape this awful scenario with no altercation. The girl was crying by then, and Ludwig wished he could have cried right along with her. But with the lowering of Ludwig's gun came the lowering of hers, which was foolish perhaps because she stood in front of Gilbert, and Gilbert's gun was very steady, despite his slouching stance.</p>
  <p>They stood there, the four of them, and stared at each other in the rain, lit up by the glow of the gaslight.</p>
  <p>And then, in that awful silence, Gilbert suddenly said to Ludwig, in the Jutland dialect, "Shoot him, Lutz."</p>
  <p>What?</p>
  <p>Ludwig froze up again, this time so furiously that even his shaking hand was perfectly steady. He looked over at Gilbert in horror, but Gilbert merely glanced at him, raised his brow so loftily, and seemed so easygoing.</p>
  <p>Again, at Ludwig's hesitation, Gilbert said, "Shoot him. What are you waiting for? Huh? Are you gonna think twice in the army when they give you an order? You wanna be a soldier, don't you? I'm your superior, and I said shoot him. Shoot before you get shot. That's the rule out there."</p>
  <p>Ludwig's eyes flew straight ahead back to the man before him, clueless as to what they were saying, and maybe he saw the fright on Ludwig's face, but he misread it perhaps as safety, because his braced shoulders became less tense.</p>
  <p>Oh, no—</p>
  <p>Gilbert became impatient at Ludwig's immobility, as always.</p>
  <p>"Shoot! That's an order, soldier. He's holding a gun on you. Shoot."</p>
  <p>No, no, he wasn't a soldier yet, not yet, and this wasn't a war. This man held Ludwig in his sights only because he was terrified and didn't want to die, and Ludwig didn't wanna die, either, and <em>he</em> was terrified, too.</p>
  <p>"Shoot!"</p>
  <p>Couldn't, impossible, he couldn't do it, this man hadn't done anything wrong, had done nothing to Ludwig, he didn't even know this guy, didn't, and it wasn't right.</p>
  <p>The rain was falling harder.</p>
  <p>Irritated and angry, Gilbert's loose stance stiffened up again, his voice deepened into that commanding boom, and he gave Ludwig the final order.</p>
  <p>"I'm going to shoot her, and so you better shoot him, because he's going to kill you the second I fire. Got it? I'm countin' down from three, Lutz, and then I'm shooting her. Get it together quick, or you won't live to see the army. Three."</p>
  <p>No.</p>
  <p>Wouldn't do it. Couldn't. He wasn't a murderer, he wasn't. He wasn't brave, no, he wasn't any different than everyone else that just pretended nothing was happening, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. Had never wanted to.</p>
  <p>He hadn't joined the army to hurt people. Had just wanted to feel confident like Gilbert, had wanted to think that maybe he was protecting his home, people he cared about. That was why he had joined the army and not the SS or the SA. Didn't want that brown shirt, didn't want that life, had just wanted to feel better about himself without hurting anyone in the process.</p>
  <p>"Two!"</p>
  <p>He'd watched everything around him change, and he'd gone along with it, had just flowed down the river because he was a coward, had never lifted his hand to help even though he'd spent nights just crying himself to sleep. Had never been brave, but this was his chance, maybe, maybe, to finally put his foot down, to say 'no', because this wasn't who he was, wasn't who he wanted to be, didn't want to do this, didn't want to hurt anyone, didn't want to wake up every <em>day </em>with this hanging there over his head.</p>
  <p>Wouldn't do it—</p>
  <p>"One!"</p>
  <p>The sound of the discharge, loud and deafening, as Gilbert pulled the trigger. Another shot, too loud and too close. Ludwig had squinted his eyes at Gilbert's final number, knowing that he was dead, that he had been shot, that the man had fired at the very second Gilbert had.</p>
  <p>His hand was shakin' so bad—</p>
  <p>He opened his eyes then, and immediately they locked once more onto that man's.</p>
  <p>And that was when Ludwig realized that the second shot hadn't come from <em>him</em>; it had come from Ludwig. From Ludwig's gun. He had pulled the trigger. Hadn't felt it. Hadn't realized. Hadn't been a conscious effort. He hadn't meant to do that.</p>
  <p>Why had he pulled the trigger? He hadn't meant to—</p>
  <p>A meeting of eyes on his own. A silence. Incomprehension. And then the man fell before him, there beside the girl, and Ludwig coulda fallen, too. Oh, no, no, no, hadn't meant to do that, hadn't, hadn't wanted that, hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, hadn't even remembered pulling the trigger at all.</p>
  <p>He inhaled, a breath away from tears, and clenched his shaking hand in his soaked hair, breathing through his mouth as Gilbert knelt down and quickly took the guns from the ground. He turned the girl's gun this way and that, and then scoffed, and muttered, to himself, "A fuckin' toy."</p>
  <p>The world felt like it ended then.</p>
  <p>When Gilbert opened up the man's gun, the gun that had pointed at Ludwig, it was empty. Nothing inside. No bullets.</p>
  <p>No bullets.</p>
  <p>He'd pulled the fuckin' trigger and the man hadn't even had bullets.</p>
  <p>Murderer.</p>
  <p>Gilbert tucked the gun away, stood up, and he marched furiously on Ludwig then, as Ludwig stood there and was very close to hyperventilating. Gilbert reached out and clenched Ludwig's collar in a rough hand, and hissed, over the rain, "What're ya thinkin', huh? Are you stupid? What's the matter with you? You're gonna get yourself killed! Is this how you're plannin' to go to war, huh? Waitin' 'til the last fuckin' moment to pull the damn trigger? You're gonna die out there! You're so <em>stupid</em>! When someone gives you an order, you follow it immediately and without thinking! Got it?"</p>
  <p>A sharp slap to his cheek. He didn't feel it.</p>
  <p>They were still, there on the sidewalk. Didn't move. Didn't breathe. He wished that they would have just stood up. Would have done anything in the world, if only they would have stood up.</p>
  <p>Gilbert slapped him again, and yet still Ludwig's eyes were glued to them.</p>
  <p>Wanted to say, 'Please, please, <em>please </em>get up.'</p>
  <p>Get up.</p>
  <p>They didn't, and Gilbert slapped him one more time just for the hell of it before he finally started dragging Ludwig backwards. He felt as though he were standing still yet. The puddles rippled in the gutter. Water dripped from his soaking bangs. Gaslights lit up the street. Red, leaking into the stream.</p>
  <p>They didn't get up.</p>
  <p>He was pulled away, he was led home, Gilbert shoved him inside and slapped him one more time, he stumbled up the stairs, he fell down on his bed, soaking wet as he was, he tried to sleep, but up in his head he was still standing in that street.</p>
  <p>Numb.</p>
  <p>Time had stopped in that moment. Something had broken.</p>
  <p>He was a murderer.</p>
  <p>He lied there in bed that night, and knew at last that he never wanted to be like Gilbert, and that he never wanted to be 'right'. He couldn't do it. He stared at the rain pouring down outside, and began planning his escape that very night.</p>
  <p>Years later, even to this very day, he still found himself in static in his nightmares, slouched with a gun in hand and bangs in his eyes.</p>
  <p>Rain fell.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. If We Never Meet Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 23</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>If We Never Meet Again</strong>
</p><p>The days dragged.</p><p>Berwald's heavy arm slung over his chest couldn't get him to sleep at night. Lips in his hair and a hand over his neck. Whispering in his ear. Still couldn't relax.</p><p>Gilbert <em>hated </em>him.</p><p>Wouldn't even look at him. Wouldn't talk, wouldn't eat, wouldn't do anything at all except glare at the wall and scream. Fight. He was hostile to everyone and everything. Did everything he could, as Ludwig once had, to escape them. They had to keep him under constant surveillance, constant supervision, and every single one of them <em>hated </em>it when it was their turn, because Gilbert lashed out, physically and mentally, and made the experience downright miserable.</p><p>Gilbert was hell on earth.</p><p>Timo had tried to get Gilbert to drink, and had wound up with a bloody nose. Lukas had tried to keep Gilbert from wringing his hands right out of the rope, and had gotten a busted lip. Magnus had tried to keep Gilbert down after he had tried to break through the window, and had gotten a twisted ankle and a thumb popped out of its socket. Berwald had tried to keep Gilbert from rushing him, and had wound up with a limp and a cracked elbow.</p><p>And Ludwig got it the worst.</p><p>Anytime it was Ludwig's turn, Gilbert seemed to be determined to end him, in whatever way he could. He just walked through the door one day and Gilbert had charged him, slamming him into the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Luckily, he had been relieving Berwald of a shift, and Gilbert was tackled before he could cause any more harm. Other times, Gilbert just sat there on the bed as Ludwig sat in the chair, but oh, <em>god</em>, the things Gilbert would <em>say </em>to him—he sat there, staring blankly ahead, and knew he was crying despite his best efforts. Liked it better when Gilbert kicked at him and hurt him physically than when he said those things.</p><p>He was so bruised now that he felt like he'd gone back in time and was brawling with Magnus all over again. Could barely even walk without limping, couldn't breathe without wincing.</p><p>Gilbert was trying to kill him, he was sure of it.</p><p>Ludwig had shamed Gilbert, had dishonored him, and so Gilbert sought now to put an end to him, no doubt, to snuff Ludwig out and pretend he never was. Sometimes, in worse moods, Ludwig was almost inclined to let him.</p><p>But then he saw Berwald, and remembered that he had found a foothold in some life that didn't make him miserable, and to that he clung.</p><p>One tired night, as Berwald came lumbering into bed, limping, having been relieved of Gilbert-watch, he sighed, pulled Ludwig in, and asked, "What happened?"</p><p>Didn't need to ask what Berwald meant; Berwald had been standing there when Ludwig had broken down, and was curious as to what that 'that' was that Ludwig had referred to.</p><p>His greatest shame, his dark secret so to speak.</p><p>Ludwig told Berwald, told him everything, and Berwald just stared at him and listened. Ludwig only told Berwald because Berwald had confessed, after all, to killing someone before the war had started, so Berwald couldn't look at Ludwig and so easily declare him a murderer, even though he was. Told Berwald everything, all of those nightmares, those days in terror, crying himself to sleep, thinking so much about going out to the bridge.</p><p>Doing nothing.</p><p>Ludwig realized, thinking back on it, that he had wanted to jump off of that train because he hadn't ever wanted to kill anyone again. He had met these men, though, and suddenly his hands were so soaked red that they could never be scrubbed clean. Had become everything he had tried to run away from. Hadn't wanted to hurt people, and now killed them for a living.</p><p>The sad story of his life.</p><p>Maybe Gilbert really was the better man—at least Gilbert knew what he was. Had never pretended to be anything else. Held his beliefs proudly and never turned, not once, no matter how bad things may have gotten. Ludwig thought those beliefs were detestable, but at least Gilbert stood for <em>something</em>. Ludwig just wandered aimlessly and waited for someone to come pick him up so he could cling to them and their ideals.</p><p>Maybe it was Ludwig who was the terrible person, and had been all along.</p><p>Berwald didn't say anything as Ludwig spoke, and didn't say anything after. Just pulled him close, buried his face, and they tried to sleep.</p><p>In the meanwhile, all of them plotted and planned and tried to figure out what the hell they were going to do with Gilbert, being unable to send him back over to the Germans without committing suicide. Gilbert couldn't be set free here, and keeping him was becoming too dangerous as well.</p><p>Magnus griped, one morning, "You know, I couldn't see any resemblance between you two, but I sure as hell can <em>feel </em>it."</p><p>Everyone was sore and bruised and bloodied.</p><p>If Ludwig had been a viper trying to get away, then Gilbert was an absolute bear, and there had been three separate occasions now where all five of them had been needed to subdue him when he had tried to break free.</p><p>Gilbert bided time, gathered energy, made a huge tussle, and then repeated the process.</p><p>It had been five days, and no one had come up with any bright ideas. Lukas glowered at his bedroom door, and Ludwig could very easily see that Lukas <em>desperately </em>wanted to say, 'Let's just shoot the bastard.'</p><p>Surprisingly, he didn't, but only because he had come back after leaving.</p><p>Ludwig wracked his brain constantly, running a hand over his healing nose, and just couldn't see a clear way out. There was nothing he could ever say to Gilbert that would make him just let it go and leave Ludwig in peace. Even if Gilbert had ever agreed, Ludwig could never trust him. As soon as Gilbert returned to the Germans, he would seek to get even with Ludwig, one way or another, because Gilbert felt he had been wronged. Gilbert had said, after all, that he had been prouder when Ludwig had been dead.</p><p>They took shifts now with two at a time, because Gilbert raised such unholy hell and was so had to subdue once he got riled up. Lukas' bedroom was in absolute tatters, and Ludwig regretted that, but at least all of Lukas' belongings were safe, still in his bags.</p><p>Every day was one day too many.</p><p>When Magnus came trudging out of the room when he and Lukas were relieved of duty, he turned to look at Ludwig with bleary eyes, and said, miserably, "Ludde. God knows I love ya, I do, always will, and so I don't mean no offense or nothin', but I really <em>hate </em>your fuckin' brother. I hate him. I fuckin' hate him."</p><p>Ludwig just sat there, and hung his head.</p><p>They all needed to sit together and talk, but they couldn't leave Gilbert alone. Couldn't have a conversation like that in front of Gilbert, but needed all heads present.</p><p>Gilbert barely slept.</p><p>And, oh, Timo looked <em>furious</em>. Hadn't seen Timo that angry since he had been trashing the Soviet Union when they had left Estonia upon his friend's death. That awful look on his face. Sometimes, Ludwig wondered if maybe it would be Timo in the end and not Lukas who ended up shooting Gilbert.</p><p>It was only Ludwig's pleas that kept them all from taking Gilbert out back and putting him out of his misery. At times Ludwig wasn't entirely certain why he didn't just let them.</p><p>He <em>loved</em> Gilbert, whatever else could be said.</p><p>Timo fumed, and on the sixth day, Timo left before dawn, when he had been relieved of his shift. He came back hours later, as Ludwig and Lukas sat exhausted at the kitchen table over coffee. Gilbert had been cranky that morning, ready to get revved up, and so Magnus and Berwald had taken that shift, since they were the strongest.</p><p>Timo barged up to the table, pulled a glass vial out of his pocket, sat it down, and Lukas leaned forward curiously, always so nosy. Ludwig was too tired to be nosy, at least until Timo pulled a syringe out of his pocket, uncapped it with his teeth, and picked the mysterious liquid back up. Timo plunged the syringe into the vial, filled it carefully with liquid, as Ludwig watched anxiously, and when Timo flicked the syringe, Ludwig gathered the nerve to ask, "What the hell is <em>that</em>?"</p><p>Without batting an eye, Timo grumbled, "A sedative, for your fuckin' brother."</p><p>Lukas gave a long exhale of what could very well have been relief.</p><p>A pang, and Ludwig opened his mouth to bitch, but very quickly realized the benefits outweighed anything else, because they were all exhausted.</p><p>Timo squared his shoulders, looked them all over, and said, very sternly and very commandingly, "You guys are gonna hold the son of a bitch down so I can stab him with this needle. Let's go."</p><p>An order.</p><p>Had to give Timo that, he was a hell of a lot more aggressive than Berwald in giving orders, impossible to disobey, and Ludwig was feeling sick and guilty when they barged into the bedroom.</p><p>Magnus and Berwald looked up, but Timo's steely sights were set on Gilbert. A man on a mission, absolutely, and when Timo said, "Hold that bastard down," they all leapt forward before Gilbert could react.</p><p>Still, despite the surprise and the bad angle Gilbert was caught in, he still fought furiously and managed to kick Lukas in the stomach very mercilessly before he was pinned down.</p><p>As always, Gilbert tried only to cause harm to Ludwig then, but with the other three pinning him Gilbert just couldn't accomplish anything this time. Timo very quickly came forward, clenched the syringe in his fist, pulled it up over his head and stabbed it into Gilbert's thigh far more brutally than he needed to, and pushed the plunger.</p><p>As Ludwig shot Timo a foul look, Timo snarled, "<em>God</em>! That felt <em>good</em>."</p><p>Lukas, mouth full of blood, grumbled, "Mind stabbin' him again?"</p><p>Timo didn't, but did give the needle a bit of a tilt there in Gilbert's thigh.</p><p>Gilbert, too strong and hard and furious to be bothered, just kept attempting to assassinate Ludwig with his gaze.</p><p>Timo yanked the syringe out, and they sat there and waited, pinning silently seething Gilbert down. Didn't take long, thank god, because Gilbert's brutal death-stare was burning him. Ludwig turned his head, and looked away.</p><p>A few minutes, and then Gilbert couldn't keep his gaze focused. Still gave every effort to murder Ludwig with his eyes, until a few more minutes later, and then Gilbert started floating away, become disoriented, and the last thing Gilbert said was a very deep, slurred, "Lutz—where the <em>fuck </em>have ya been? I've been looking... You're grounded."</p><p>A pang of hurt.</p><p>With that, Gilbert fell unconscious.</p><p>They let Gilbert go, and backed off. Five or so minutes later, Timo nudged Gilbert with his boot.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>The first taste of calm since Gilbert had been dragged through the door, and it was pretty glorious. They tied Gilbert's leg to the bed, just in case of course, and then finally trudged out into the living room, keeping the door open so that they could see Gilbert at all times.</p><p>They all plopped down on various surfaces in exhaustion, and relaxed. Felt great, and Berwald leaned his head back on the sofa and looked quite ready to just fall asleep.</p><p>After a long reveling in the silence and peace, they finally started conversing.</p><p>Lukas sat there, rubbing his stomach and wincing as he tried to swallow away the last of the blood that lingered in his mouth, and asked, testily, "What the fuck are you guys made of? You survive that train and that bullet, and now this bastard won't be put down. I thought they were bullshitting me when they told me how hard they fought to take <em>you </em>down, but now I'm startin' to think there's something to it."</p><p>Timo scoffed, "You have no idea. He was a nightmare."</p><p>"An actual nightmare," Magnus confirmed.</p><p>"Until <em>this </em>nightmare came along," Berwald added, "and now he doesn't seem so bad by comparison."</p><p>"Perfectly divine," Timo drawled.</p><p>"Absolutely saintly," Magnus monotoned.</p><p>Ludwig just sat there, more bruised and sore than they were, and finally grunted, tiredly, "I <em>was</em> always the good brother."</p><p>Another long, heavy silence.</p><p>Berwald sighed then, elbows rested on his knees, and finally muttered, "What the <em>hell </em>are we gonna do now?"</p><p>A very good question.</p><p>Ludwig stayed silent, letting his mind wander. Gilbert couldn't stay, that was outright obvious. He'd end up killing someone. Had to go. The only question, really, was where. Where could they send him? What could they do with him? Couldn't send him back across this border, so close to them. That was far too dangerous.</p><p>Needed to get Gilbert far enough away that he would no longer pose a threat, and that meant he had to be tossed out of Finland entirely. Wanted to get rid of him, but couldn't let him be hurt, either, and so that made things more complicated, because no doubt the others had many a good plan that they couldn't say aloud for fear of Ludwig punching them in the face.</p><p>Lukas in particular, no doubt.</p><p>And Ludwig understood, he did, it was just...</p><p>Gilbert wasn't a good man. Gilbert was a troublemaker, an instigator, a proud Nazi, a fighter for everything Ludwig hated. A killer.</p><p>But he was still Ludwig's brother, when everything was said and done, had raised him, and Ludwig fuckin' <em>loved </em>him, as much as he loved anything, and no matter what Gilbert had done, it only seemed right that Ludwig try to get Gilbert out of here safe and sound. Couldn't stand the thought of Gilbert being hurt, even if Gilbert hated him now.</p><p>However Gilbert felt about Ludwig, Ludwig still would have gone to the moon for Gilbert.</p><p>When no one had yet to speak, Berwald added, "He's gotta go somewhere far, and friendly. Any ideas?"</p><p>"Out of Finland entirely," Ludwig grunted.</p><p>"Sure," Lukas said, rather tiredly, as he rubbed now absently at the black eye Gilbert had freshened up the day prior. "The only problem is that tossin' him into another country from here would mean tossin' him right into the Soviet Union. I imagine that isn't high on the list. Unless you plan on going on a long damn trip north and giving him back to Norway. But that's still just too close, isn't it? He'd be too close."</p><p>Ludwig just scoffed.</p><p>Yeah, that was still too close. Just a day away on the train from Narvik, where Gilbert would inevitably end up should they have tossed him into northern Norway. Norway was the best place, but it wasn't safe enough.</p><p>Another long stretch of dead air.</p><p>Damn, why couldn't he think of anything? Why was he stuck in the worst possible place? Nowhere good to throw troublesome Gilbert.</p><p>"We can try to get a hold of the guys in Helsinki," Magnus finally offered, tentatively. "Maybe we can get him across the sea to Sweden? That's far enough away. I mean, I know it's not friendly, but, hell. What's the worst they'll do there? They won't shoot him, at any rate. Throw him into Sweden. Let <em>him </em>figure it out from there, the bastard. He can't just get out of there so easily and come right back."</p><p>The sea?</p><p>Ludwig inhaled, sat up straight, mind whirring away, and said, mostly to himself, "If I can get him down the coast of Sweden, I can try to get him back into Germany. I can get him back <em>home</em>."</p><p>An awful silence.</p><p>Magnus' voice was much lower and deeper and irritable when he grumbled, "That is <em>not </em>what I said."</p><p>"No, that's what <em>I </em>said," Ludwig snapped back, sick with adrenaline and shame and hurt and everything else.</p><p>Just needed to get Gilbert out of here and damn far away.</p><p>At last, Timo spoke up, to grumble, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We're not gonna risk any more than we need to."</p><p>It was stupid, he knew it, but the idea had already rooted itself there in Ludwig's head.</p><p>Loved Gilbert, even if Gilbert hated him, and the thought of getting him back to Germany was tempting. To get him to the tip of Sweden, then Denmark, at least there, if only just there.</p><p>Home.</p><p>Ludwig turned to Timo then, ever reliable Timo, and asked, "Can you at least talk to the guys in Helsinki? See if there's any way they'd be able to get him to Germany? We're allies. There has to be a way."</p><p>Timo sighed through his nose, pursed his lip, staring away at the floor as he hunched over, and after a long silence he finally lifted up his head.</p><p>"Alright. I'll ask. Guess no harm ever came from asking. Don't have too many choices here."</p><p>Timo looked around a bit, stood up, grabbed his coat, and left to go into town.</p><p>All they could in the meanwhile was wait.</p><p>Berwald was pale and ruffled, tired and bruised, and Ludwig hated that he had once more gotten everyone into a position they had no business being in. Gilbert was unconscious, Lukas and Magnus were here, and Timo probably wouldn't be back for hours, so Ludwig stood up, grabbed Berwald's hand there in front of the others, and pulled him to his feet.</p><p>Berwald seemed a bit stupefied. Just overwhelmed from everything. Run down. He followed blindly behind Ludwig when Ludwig led him out the backdoor and out into the snow. Even the cold air didn't really seem to wake him up.</p><p>He sat down on the back steps, watching the lake, and Berwald clumsily plopped down beside of him, and immediately Berwald leaned sideways and rested his head atop Ludwig's shoulder. Ludwig wasted no time in throwing his arm around him and pulling him in. Poor thing.</p><p>Ludwig was more trouble than he was worth to these men.</p><p>Snow started falling again shortly after, and they sat there in silence for hours, Berwald drifting in and out of sleep as Ludwig fretted.</p><p>A creak of the door behind them. Ludwig glanced back over Berwald's head, to see Lukas. A twitch of Lukas' head, and Ludwig knew that Timo was back. He reluctantly shook Berwald awake, and they trudged back in, feet heavy and hearts heavier.</p><p>Exhaustion. It was wearing away at him.</p><p>Timo was waiting for them, until they were all seated again. Timo stared at Ludwig for a long, long time, before he finally spoke.</p><p>Berwald was quite pale, foot tapping as he leaned forward, and Ludwig was well aware of his anxiety and hated it.</p><p>"Well. They say they can get him to Germany, they think, without too much trouble. But. Well. They say <em>you'd </em>have to come with them. They're riskin' a lot for you, so you have to go with them. They want a German soldier on board in case they run into a patrol boat."</p><p>If Ludwig thought Berwald was pale before, he suddenly seemed quite ghostly.</p><p>Ludwig, although he hadn't exactly expected it, somehow wasn't that surprised. It was a big favor he was calling in. Maybe it was only fair and appropriate that he go along. If he wanted other people to risk their lives, then he should be willing to risk his own as well.</p><p>After an awful silence, Ludwig just muttered, "Well! Good thing we saved that uniform, huh?"</p><p>No one spoke.</p><p>Ludwig had done a lot of stupid things in his life, and these men knew that better than anyone else. Still, maybe he could stand there and say that entertaining this notion at all was closer to absolute insanity. Smuggling an unconscious German soldier through Finland and across the sea, through endless mine fields and all the way back to Germany, and then the roundtrip.</p><p>After a while, Lukas spoke up. His silvery was rather low, and rough.</p><p>"Ludwig. If you do this, if you really do this, I'm honest to god going to think that you're the stupidest man I've ever met in my life. Not that I didn't already, but this will just make me sure."</p><p>Ludwig scoffed, and felt that one.</p><p>He knew it.</p><p>It was Magnus who said, "Getting him there will be hard enough. That'll take enough luck. And then coming back, on top of it? That's more luck than you got."</p><p>Timo was the one to scoff then, and gripe, "I'll say. As if <em>you </em>ever had much luck to begin with."</p><p>Knew that, too.</p><p>Berwald was so quiet.</p><p>That silence was awful, as Ludwig clasped his hands there before him, staring at the falling snow, and weighed his options. Weighing, in the end, how much Gilbert truly meant to him.</p><p>Once more, Timo tried, "Let's try to get him to Sweden instead, Ludwig. He'll get caught up there in diplomacy for a long time."</p><p>"Arrested, more like," Ludwig grumbled.</p><p>"Yeah," Timo snapped, "Exactly. That's what we need. That'll keep him out of our hair. He'll be safe. When the war's over they'll let him go. They probably won't even hold him until then. You don't make any sense. You want him safe, don't you? Put him in Sweden. He can't die there. Why send him back to Germany and into a war zone?"</p><p>Ludwig looked around at them, and thought for an awful second that his face was crumpling, and his voice was certainly a bit thick when he finally admitted, selfishly, "So maybe he'll hate me a little less."</p><p>Just that. So much trouble, just for the slight chance that Gilbert would maybe hate Ludwig just a small bit less if Ludwig took him back to the country he loved so much, instead of getting him locked up in a neutral one.</p><p>It really was the stupidest idea he had ever entertained, they were right.</p><p>But he loved Gilbert, and the slim chance of keeping Gilbert's pride intact seemed worth all of the insanity.</p><p>He wanted Gilbert to be safe, away from war, yeah, but that wasn't what Gilbert wanted. He had already been wounded enough, and Ludwig couldn't bring himself to have Gilbert torn away from fighting for the one thing he loved. Gilbert had always wanted to die heroically and young, and Ludwig knew that that was a very likely possibility if Gilbert were thrown back into Germany. Could have lived with that better, somehow, though. If Gilbert wanted to get himself killed and go out in that blaze of glory he had always wanted, then somehow it was easier for Ludwig to stomach if Gilbert did that in Germany. Home. Didn't want him to fall here, not here, not to some Red bullet so far from home. Didn't want him to fall in Finland, nor in Russia.</p><p>Germany.</p><p>Let Gilbert die there, and maybe that would be just enough for Gilbert to let it all go and die without hating Ludwig. To take Gilbert home would be Ludwig's final peace offering to Gilbert, although Gilbert may not have deserved it.</p><p>They saw him truly considering, and surely they thought he had at long last lost his mind.</p><p>Lukas, perhaps in a last ditch effort, murmured, "You're gonna be on a boat for days. If you run into trouble, you'll have to shoot while seasick. And then one more time, on the way back."</p><p>"<em>You </em>can't stay in Germany," Magnus said, as Ludwig stared ever out of the window. "You know you can't. He'll have you shot if you do."</p><p>Ludwig nodded, absently.</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Berwald had yet to utter a word.</p><p>A long silence, as they waited for Ludwig to change his mind, and Timo spat more than said, "We should never have brought him here."</p><p>And that might have been the very first time that Ludwig wasn't sure if Timo was talking about Gilbert or Ludwig.</p><p>Hurt.</p><p>It was decision time, then. Time to decide once and for all just how far he was willing to press himself for Gilbert's sake, how much he was willing to risk, how far he would go for a man that wanted him dead and had essentially disowned him. For his brother, bound by blood as he was.</p><p>It came down, really, to them or <em>him</em>.</p><p>Gilbert or Berwald. Berwald or Gilbert. Them or him. Figurative brothers or a literal one. Love or blood.</p><p>His head was pounding.</p><p>But Gilbert had said, 'I'll get you back home.'</p><p>Where they belonged. Home and country always called to men, and Gilbert heeded Germany's call always, and should have gone back.</p><p>It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Not only for Gilbert, but for everyone else. Couldn't let any harm come to these men because of him. His brothers. Wouldn't let them fall because Ludwig made mistake after mistake.</p><p>So, with his mind made up and will very strong, Ludwig turned to Timo, his friend and leader, and said, sternly, "I'll go. Let them know."</p><p>Timo just sat there, brow low and arms loose at his sides, and stared at him for a long while. Lukas hung his head and muttered to himself, as Magnus buried his face in his palms.</p><p>Berwald looked mystified somehow.</p><p>That horrible silence, and then Timo pulled himself to his feet, nodded his head, and said, simply, "Alright."</p><p>Ludwig could only wait then, and see what clever Timo's clever guys came up with, and how long it would take to set out. Gilbert slept for the rest of the day, and Ludwig sat there and stared at him when he finally started coming around, close to dusk.</p><p>Gilbert, high and unaware, was approachable then, and Ludwig didn't waste the opportunity to cling one last time to his brother, as Gilbert whispered to him in slurred speech that was disjointed and made little to no sense.</p><p>Berwald stood there in the doorframe the entire while, and stared at Ludwig as if Ludwig had just kicked him in the chest all over again. Couldn't stand that expression, and so Ludwig kept his eyes on Gilbert.</p><p>Timo came back after the sun had set, when Gilbert was still lethargic and subdued, and he sat Ludwig down at the kitchen table over a map. The others hovered behind, quietly, as Timo set his finger on their location.</p><p>"So. The guys are gonna come to us. They know their way around these borders, and they have a vehicle big enough. From here, they're gonna take you down to Helsinki—" Ludwig just followed Timo's finger, obediently, and paid attention, "—and that's where you'll get your boat. From what they say, it's small, but it has a little cabin. That's where you'll stash him. It's gonna take about five days to get to the German coast. Needless to say, you can't have him raising hell all the time, so..."</p><p>Timo dug around in his pocket, and pulled out a vial of clear liquid.</p><p>"This is the same stuff I gave him. You gotta keep him sedated the whole time. I've got it written down, the doses and everything, so don't worry about that. You won't be giving him as much I gave him this time. He won't really be knocked out. Just calm and out of it. It should be alright. Hopefully, he'll be the least of your worries."</p><p>Timo's finger began dragging across the sea.</p><p>"You'll go straight towards Sweden to get into neutral waters as soon as you can, because the sea's a damn battlefield. You're gonna be going over a hell of a minefield. Your boat's too small to hit them, but running into other ships could be a problem once you get into more crowded waters. You'll go all the way down the Swedish coast, under Denmark, and then from there, straight down to here, Travemünde. There's a lot of traffic there, so the hope is that you'll just be able to sneak in without too many questions. You'll go down to a quiet place, find a little pier or something outside of the city. The second they see something that looks safe, you're just gonna throw him down there and then turn straight around. He'll be fine alone. He'll find his way around just fine, I'm sure. And then the same thing on the way back. Same route. My only worry is those damn mines. Soviet subs keep on laying 'em, all over. And I..."</p><p>A long silence.</p><p>Magnus looked rather ill there above Timo, staring down at that map, and Ludwig felt quite similar. Such a long trip on a boat, helpless in the water with no way to run away if he found more trouble.</p><p>Timo looked over at Ludwig then, and said, in nearly a whisper, "I worry about you running into patrols. You're a soldier, sure, but your uniform is so old. If someone looks twice... It just takes one person to notice, and then they'll board you. That worries me. I wish you'd just change your mind."</p><p>Couldn't be, and Ludwig could only stare into Timo's eyes, take a deep breath, and clap his hand heavily down on Timo's shoulder.</p><p>If Gilbert hadn't been sleeping during the attack, then Ludwig could have taken Gilbert's newer uniform and his problems would have been lessened.</p><p>They could only work with what they had, as always, and Ludwig stood up then, as determined as ever, and looked around at them all.</p><p>That silence was painful, so Ludwig asked, "When will they be here?"</p><p>Timo's grim face.</p><p>"Three days."</p><p>So soon. Three days left to spend with Berwald before facing potential death? Didn't seem like enough. Didn't seem fair. He'd made the choice, but somehow it just didn't seem like he should have had to. Gilbert should have just...</p><p>Too late.</p><p>Everything was awkward and quiet, as Timo's eyes fell back down to the map, and it was in that awful silence, so heavy, that Berwald very abruptly came forward from the corner, raised his voice, and said, "No."</p><p>They all turned to look at him.</p><p>Oh, the sight of him then hurt Ludwig. Was so pale, his brow crinkled and his lips pursed, his fists were clenched at his sides, his feet braced, and Berwald was staring straight at Ludwig when he said, again, "No."</p><p>Not this, not now, couldn't take it—</p><p>Timo's eyes fell yet again to the map, and he seemed to slump a little. Ludwig just stared at pale Berwald, and tried to say, weakly, "It'll be alright. I'm hard to kill, remember?"</p><p>Stubbornly, Berwald shook his head, jaw squared and looking so determined. Ludwig tried hard to stare Berwald down then, tried to intimidate him in some way, tried to keep him still and quiet, because Ludwig was already a mess up in his head and wasn't sure he could handle an outburst from Berwald.</p><p>Berwald paid no heed to him, and shook his head once more, messy hair shaking with him, and he took another step forward, saying, in a voice that shook, "I'll go."</p><p>What?</p><p>Timo once more snapped his eyes back up to Berwald, this time in shock, and Lukas shifted his weight.</p><p>Dumbfounded, Ludwig could only stare at Berwald in disbelief.</p><p>At the silence, Berwald pressed, weakly, "I can go. I can— Maybe, I can fit in that uniform, I can, maybe, I can... I'll go. Stay here. I'll go instead." Berwald's voice lowered then into a breaking rumble, as he uttered, "I like it when I know you're <em>here</em>. Safe. I'll go. I don't— Stay here, and I'll take 'im. You can't go. I don't want anything else to happen to ya. I'll go."</p><p>Magnus turned around, putting his back to them and staring off into the corner.</p><p>Timo seemed quite alarmed, but Ludwig just felt so nauseous suddenly. Was so certain he was about to throw up, at that awful look on Berwald's face. Hanging there in between hope and despair. Trying to smile and be strong, while looking like he was about to start crying.</p><p>At last, Ludwig managed to just shake his head.</p><p>Berwald's brow scrunched, his eyes squinted, but he fought it off, and said, one more time, "I'll go."</p><p>Couldn't be.</p><p>That time, Ludwig found his voice, and whispered, "I don't know how to tell you this, but your German is really bad. A uniform won't fix that. Don't think you'd get very far. Ha. You'd rip the damn thing anyway, trying to squeeze into it. That wouldn't look too good."</p><p>Timo tried to laugh, and fell very short.</p><p>Berwald was silent then, as if confused, and he didn't say anything else that long night, turning his eyes down to that map under Timo and very pale.</p><p>It was time to supervise Gilbert again, though, and Lukas and Timo took that shift, because, to be quite frank, they were the only two then who didn't look as if they were about to be sick. Magnus was ever turned away.</p><p>All Ludwig could do was lead Berwald upstairs for sleep, but Berwald just lied there and stared at him, and it didn't take long for him to start murmuring to Ludwig, trying to coax Ludwig into letting Berwald take his place.</p><p>Ludwig just buried his face in Berwald's chest and did his best to ignore him. Berwald pleaded for hours, until he finally drifted off in exhaustion.</p><p>Those three days...</p><p>Miserable. Wanted to make the most of them, to spend great times with them all, to sit together and drink and laugh as they once had, but it couldn't be, because Gilbert needed constant supervision and because everyone was just so quiet and down.</p><p>Magnus' eyes were so firmly on the floor that Ludwig was surprised he wasn't bumping into the walls. Timo and Lukas were utterly silent, staring off blankly.</p><p>Berwald trailed behind Ludwig endlessly, constantly, no matter where he went, and every few hours or so he would open his mouth and once more offer to take Ludwig's place. It was gnawing at him, wearing him down, and sometimes he had to change direction and walk outside, because he started crying and he didn't want the others to see. Obliviously, in that desperate daze, Berwald just followed him, as Ludwig broke down and pulled himself together and then broke down again.</p><p>Berwald was making it so much harder than it needed to be. It wasn't certain death, it wasn't, not by a long shot, but Berwald was acting as if Ludwig were about to take a swan dive over a great cliff, and so that made it feel that way. It wouldn't have been so dreadful if Berwald hadn't been in that strange state of premature mourning.</p><p>And god!</p><p>That last night together, before the day came—unbearable. Berwald clung to him, so tightly that Ludwig could barely breathe, and out of nowhere Berwald had just started talking to him. Just started out of nowhere, and then didn't stop for hours. Berwald had never spoken so much, and it was astounding.</p><p>Berwald told Ludwig his entire life story, from his very first memory up until the day they had met, and it was staggering, hearing Berwald speak like that. He couldn't seem to stop, as if there had never been anyone in Berwald's life that had cared to or wanted to hear about it, as if no one had ever wanted to get to know Berwald before, as if he had never had anyone to <em>talk</em> to at all. Now that Berwald had someone looking at him, seeing him, being with him because they wanted to be, it seemed as if Berwald was just telling Ludwig everything there was to tell, because he was afraid it was the last time he would ever have a chance to. Had Ludwig never come back, it seemed that Berwald thought he would never get to tell anyone ever again, because no one would ever care enough to ask or listen.</p><p>Berwald had always been alone.</p><p>Ludwig was glad his face was hidden in Berwald's shirt, because that made him feel less pitiful, sniveling as he was.</p><p>Ludwig had spent his life in terror, and Berwald had spent his drifting endlessly at sea, all alone and with no shore in sight. Ludwig had always felt so alone, so isolated, so cast aside, but it was hearing Berwald talk that night that he realized he didn't really know what loneliness was. Gilbert had always been there, for good or bad, classmates, friends, people he knew.</p><p>Had never known what it was to be completely and utterly alone until that night, when he listened to Berwald.</p><p>Broke his damn heart somehow, when he thought it had already shattered under Gilbert's words.</p><p>Had thought that Gilbert saying that he wished Ludwig was dead was the most painful thing he could ever possibly hear, and yet somehow, it was far more excruciating to lie there and listen to Berwald so breathlessly and eagerly relay his life to someone at long last, when no one on the Earth had ever before noticed he existed or cared to find out about him.</p><p>That desperate tone, under it all, to spill it all out quickly enough, because they would soon be saying goodbye.</p><p>Ludwig's resolve wavered, for the first time. Loved Gilbert so much, but he loved Berwald, too, and Gilbert hated him and Berwald needed him. Was it worth the risk?</p><p>Too late to turn back.</p><p>Morning came far too soon, as it always seemed to. It was a struggle for Ludwig to get out of bed, because Berwald's arms were locked around him and he stubbornly refused to let him go. Took a good hour of squirming and coaxing before he managed to wriggle to the edge of the bed and gain some leverage and free himself.</p><p>And even then, Berwald continued to follow him around as he had the days before, on his heels and relentless.</p><p>When finally Ludwig was able to go downstairs, Timo was waiting.</p><p>"I just gave him some sedative. He's quiet now. When they get here, whenever it is, it won't be a problem."</p><p>Ludwig saw there, on the kitchen table, his uniform, folded neatly and just ready to be put back into service. Oh, how sick that made him feel. Didn't seem right. He wasn't a soldier anymore. Had lost that right years ago.</p><p>Ludwig came forward, took the uniform up, and he and Timo stared at each other in silence, as Timo tried to smile and couldn't manage.</p><p>He somehow evaded Berwald just long enough to actually pull on that uniform several hours later, when noon came.</p><p>They had all gathered there in the living room as sedated Gilbert slept away, and oh, damn, it was so hard to step out then and walk into the midst of them. He felt as if he were made of lead suddenly, so heavy, and was clumsy with his steps.</p><p>So nervous.</p><p>They looked up when he walked in, and it was like going right back in time.</p><p>He stood before them in the final moment as he had in the first :</p><p>As a German soldier.</p><p>His boots felt too heavy. The collar was stifling. How surreal and bizarre he felt then, in that dark green uniform he had once been so proud of, for the briefest of times. He was so glad, above all else, that Gilbert was drugged then, because had he seen Ludwig donning that uniform he truly would have engaged in an upheaval so massive surely even all five of them couldn't have put him down.</p><p>Timo looked him up and down, and smiled, just a little, uttering, "Man! Does this bring back some memories."</p><p>Lukas grimaced at the sight, but was tactfully silent.</p><p>Magnus opened his mouth, gave only an odd noise, and then fell still. Looked lost, in a way, looked frightened and uncertain, as he often did.</p><p>Timo suddenly grabbed Ludwig's hand, and forced a paper inside. He clenched Ludwig's fingers around it, and then held his hand for a long while, meeting his eyes quite firmly. "I wrote down the name of the next town over. You remember it, okay, just in case. Something happens, you get into trouble somehow, and you get lost or— If you're lost in Finland, this is the next town over. Ask around, and someone will get you there. From there, it's just the one road here, alright? Just ask for me there, and someone will point you in the right direction. Okay?"</p><p>Timo's grip on his hand was tight. Painful.</p><p>Thought his voice was a little shaky, and Ludwig was swallowing more than he would have liked. Hated goodbyes, couldn't stand them. So hard, so impossible, to stand before these men and say goodbye, just in case something went wrong and he never came back.</p><p>It was only ten or eleven days. That was all. He wasn't even going to be gone for two weeks.</p><p>Why was it so hard?</p><p>Berwald wouldn't lift his eyes up from the floor, and Ludwig was certain that Berwald was a breath away from bursting into tears. Ludwig waited for Berwald to look up, to say something, to try to utter some weak goodbye, but he didn't. Just stood there, head hanging like that, swallowing and silent.</p><p>It took Ludwig a long time to get his arms moving for how damn heavy they felt, and when he finally took a step forward, he reached up, took Berwald's face in his hands, and forced him to look up.</p><p>Misery.</p><p>Had never seen such a look of misery as the one that was there upon Berwald's face.</p><p>A horrible stare, and Berwald whispered, in a trembling voice, "Please. Let me go. I'll go instead. I don't want ya to <em>go</em>. When you're gone, I— I get lost."</p><p>Had always been lost, Berwald, and Ludwig hadn't realized it until last night.</p><p>He held Berwald's face, firmly, and said, as bravely as he could, "I'll be back soon. It's only a few days. I promise, I'll do everything to get back here as quick as I can. And when I come back, I swear, whatever happens, anything, I won't leave again. This is the last time. After this, we'll do everything together. You won't be alone ever again, so don't... Please. It's gonna be <em>alright</em>."</p><p>Berwald shook his head yet again, as best he could for Ludwig's grip, and said one more time, "Don't go."</p><p>Dammit, please, needed Berwald to stop it, because it was killing him, it was, this was too damn much, seeing someone like Berwald like this. Had always seen him as so untouchable and strong, he had been the leader once. Wasn't right, seeing him like this.</p><p>Still, it had to be done, and Ludwig said, "I have to."</p><p>Just like that, Berwald's face crumpled like a piece of paper, he hung his head, and dissolved into tears. He had never seen Berwald cry. Had heard from Timo by now about his meltdown, but damn, <em>seeing </em>it was so much worse, too much.</p><p>The others stood there in silence, and looked away.</p><p>He didn't know what to do, what to say, so he just held Berwald's face as he cried. Should have said something, maybe, but felt so foolish.</p><p>Stupid—everything he did was so stupid.</p><p>Several hours later, close to sundown, they heard the vehicle coming up the drive. Berwald leapt to his feet, fists and jaw clenched, eyes wide and pulse racing, and Ludwig was startled by his quick movement after he had been dazed for days. Thought for a moment that Berwald was going to tackle him and either rip his uniform off and steal it, or just throw Ludwig over his shoulder and cart him upstairs and lock him up so he couldn't leave.</p><p>Lukas came up to Ludwig at last, and held out his hand. Ludwig took it, and Lukas said, in a whisper, "You're the dumbest guy I know. Luck favors idiots, I think, so I'm sure somehow you'll be fine. Seems like nothing can take you down. Stupidity is hard to kill."</p><p>Ludwig punched Lukas' chest, and griped back, "Guess that's how you're still alive."</p><p>Lukas just smiled, but only barely.</p><p>Magnus had yet to speak to Ludwig, and stared at him then, once more opening his mouth and once more foundering. Magnus always liked to pretend that the things around him weren't as bad as they seemed, weren't really happening, and maybe for that Magnus didn't want to say goodbye because doing so would make this very real.</p><p>Magnus stayed silent.</p><p>Timo's guys came inside then, and Berwald actually glared at them, as if they were somehow responsible for Ludwig's mess. Next thing Ludwig knew, the guys had picked up drugged Gilbert beneath his arms and had hauled him outside, and suddenly it was time to go.</p><p>Time to go? When the hell had that happened?</p><p>Berwald stood there, slumping more and more with every second that passed, and Ludwig looked all of them over in turn, giving them each a long stare to remember them, just in case, and then he turned and grabbed up Magnus' Soviet rifle. Not his; he left that where it was, because he was coming back. He was, and so there was no point in bringing it.</p><p>He went to the door, went out onto the porch, the others trailing silently behind him, and he could see the vehicle there down below. A van, and the back doors were open. Gilbert was sitting there on the side seat, slumped and barely conscious. The Finns stood out, getting in a few cigarettes before Ludwig came down.</p><p>Yeah... Time to go, alright.</p><p>He could do it. Had done such harder things than being on a boat for five days.</p><p>He took the first step down onto the path, and faltered.</p><p>He looked over his shoulder at them, all of them, his friends, and tried his best to smile as he uttered, gruffly, "Hey— You guys better all be here when I get back. Got it? All of you. No fighting. No splitting up. Wait for me. Understand? That's an order."</p><p>Timo's scoff sounded far too much like a sob, when he grumbled, "<em>I'm </em>the leader, you jerk. Ain't nobody takin' orders from a dumb bastard like you."</p><p>Ludwig's face crumpled then, so he had to very quickly say, "Goodbye," and turn away.</p><p>That was the longest walk.</p><p>When he was almost to the vehicle, Magnus called, "Ludde!"</p><p>Ludwig looked over his shoulder again.</p><p>Magnus lifted his fist in the air, and shouted to him, in the Jutland dialect, "Please— You gotta come back, man. Don't leave me here alone with these jerks. They scare the hell outta me. Got it? That's <em>my </em>order. You're my best friend, so don't die. I wanna raise hell with you when the war's over! Come back."</p><p>He blinked away the tears, gathered his voice, and managed to shout back, "You liar! You just want me to come back 'cause you still don't know where I've hidden your fuckin' money!"</p><p>Magnus laughed, for the first time in <em>so</em> long, and Ludwig was grateful for that.</p><p>The best parting gift he could hope for.</p><p>With that, he inhaled for courage, and pulled himself into the back of the vehicle, taking a seat in front of woozy Gilbert. The Finns finished up, shouted their farewells to Timo, shut the doors, and then, goddamn, they were suddenly lurching forward.</p><p>Leaving. Leaving those men, something he had wanted so many times and now couldn't stand. Ludwig glared a little at Gilbert, as Berwald had glared at those Finns, even though it wasn't Gilbert's fault, really. Gilbert hadn't wanted to be in this position any more than Ludwig had.</p><p>Ludwig turned his eyes then to the window on the doors, and saw them there one last time, the four of them, standing there and watching him go.</p><p>And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, Berwald took a step down, and then another, and then Ludwig watched as Berwald was suddenly jogging after the van, fast as he could, as if he somehow deliriously thought he was gonna just catch up and jump inside. Ah, shit—knew it couldn't be, wasn't going to be, but some stupid part of Ludwig wished that somehow Berwald really could catch up and manage to grab a hold of the van, that Ludwig could pull him up, that they could go on this journey together.</p><p>Not this time.</p><p>His job. His responsibility. Berwald would stay here.</p><p>An awful meeting of their eyes through the glass as Berwald chased after him, and then the drive ended, the corner turned, and Berwald was gone.</p><p>Ludwig couldn't really stand it, so he leaned back, shut his eyes, and tried to sleep. Just kept seeing Berwald's face.</p><p>He dozed in and out as the Finns turned onto bumpy back roads and they once more left Soviet Finland behind. The trip to Helsinki took a long while, careful as they had to be, and Ludwig just watched Gilbert and counted the hours. Every twelve hours, he dosed Gilbert according to the instructions Timo had given him.</p><p>Gilbert was beautifully cooperative. So quiet and calm. Perfectly serene. Just stared at Ludwig from across the way on the odd occasion that he lifted his head, sometimes he whispered nonsense and sometimes he smiled a little.</p><p>Wished Gilbert was always like this, come to think.</p><p>Hours dragged.</p><p>The Finns didn't speak German, so it was an interesting experience, trying to communicate with them. For the most part, they just prattled away, laughed, and then clapped him on the back and gave him a jostle here and there when he was looking down.</p><p>Ludwig just kept his eyes on drugged Gilbert, and felt dread.</p><p>Helsinki came, and so did the boat. The Finns had a fairly private pier, backed the van up as close as they could, and Ludwig assisted them in carrying heavy Gilbert onto the boat and down into the cabin beneath. When Gilbert was on the cot, it was time to go, and Ludwig's dread was ever mounting. The scariest part now, crossing the volatile sea of war and trying to get this miserable son of a bitch back home. Oh, what had he been thinking? Stupid.</p><p>Surely enough, an hour after they pulled out and began to head into the sea, Ludwig leaned over the railing and threw up. Seasick once again, and miserable.</p><p>The Finns laughed at him a little.</p><p>Those days were terrible, taking turns watching for patrols and Ludwig having to fight off constant nausea, and then keeping Gilbert sedated on top of that. The most wretched days of his life. Couldn't wait to never be on the sea again. Just needed to survive the rest of this, and then get back, and he swore to himself that he would never again find himself in a boat, never.</p><p>Days passed, without too much incident. Ludwig's anxiety rose higher, when, on the sunset of the fifth day, the final day, the Finns gestured enough to Ludwig to make him understand that he didn't need to give Gilbert anymore sedative.</p><p>They were close.</p><p>Ludwig went back down, to keep an eye on Gilbert, who would start coming out of his stupor slowly.</p><p>The sea was still. So quiet. The hour was very late. Midnight perhaps.</p><p>Gilbert was quiet too, asleep on the bed, breathing deeply and evenly. Would be rather alert when he woke up, having passed the heaviest stage of sedation. Hoped that they would find a safe place to drop him off before he became <em>too </em>alert.</p><p>Ludwig stood and meant to go back up on deck to see where they were exactly, when the calm was rocked by an explosion.</p><p>Came out of nowhere.</p><p>Knocked him over, as the boat suddenly listed, and Gilbert cried out in alarm, reacting instinctively. He hit the wall hard, damn hard, and Ludwig reached out, grabbed Gilbert's arm, and dragged him up the steadily tilting stairs. Made it onto the deck to see light, bright and orange. Fire, right beside of them. The smell of smoke, above the salt of the sea.</p><p>Their boat was capsizing, that was obvious, way it was tilting so rapidly.</p><p>Ludwig barely had time to look around and comprehend what had happened; a large fishing vessel that had been very close to them had hit a mine, no doubt, and the explosion had hit their little boat far too hard. Could hear the Finns screaming, calling to him, but couldn't see them in the dark.</p><p>Couldn't think too much about it.</p><p>He could only grab confused and limp Gilbert and slide from the slanted deck and into the black water beneath as the boat slid with them.</p><p>The sea was <em>freezing</em>—</p><p>The shock of it hit him hard. Merciless. Couldn't even breathe.</p><p>How he got his head above the water then, bringing Gilbert up with him, was a mystery.</p><p>Gilbert just looked around dazedly, shocked out of his lethargy by the coldness, and started panicking. Rightfully so, considering the circumstances, but his sudden thrashing didn't make it easy for Ludwig to keep his head above the water. Kept on sinking, struggling to break above the surface because he was clinging too stubbornly to Gilbert. Forcing Gilbert's head up even as his own lowered.</p><p>Every time he managed to surface, he cried out to Gilbert, trying to get his attention long enough to get him to stop struggling.</p><p>"Gilbert! Stop! Stop! Stop, you gotta stop! You're gonna—"</p><p>Water in his mouth as Gilbert yet thrashed.</p><p>"<em>STOP</em>! You're gonna drown us! Gilbert! Stop! Be still!"</p><p>Took a long, terrifying minute, but Gilbert finally stopped flailing, woke up more and realized where he was, came to a bit, and Ludwig was able to stay above the waves.</p><p>Gilbert, trying to figure out how to swim with numb limbs, made awkward treading motions as he looked around in utter terror. Must have been so horrifying for him, to have been drugged out of his mind and then be forced back into clarity by finding himself in the cold Baltic Sea.</p><p>A rough, breaking shriek.</p><p>"What the <em>fuck</em>— What have you done? Where are we? What's <em>happening</em>?"</p><p>Gilbert was threatening to thrash again, as panic rose up. Once more, Ludwig struggled to wrangle him, one hand tangled in Gilbert's collar as the other arm worked twice as hard to keep him afloat.</p><p>Couldn't keep it up, and the more Gilbert panicked the more Ludwig sank.</p><p>Yet again, Ludwig found himself pleading.</p><p>"Stop it, I can't— I can't stay up like this! Stop moving—"</p><p>All the water he was swallowing was making him nauseous, not helped by the terror.</p><p>Lights in the distance. The shore, so far away, so damn far.</p><p>The boat was gone, lost beneath the waves.</p><p>Hadn't even started truly swimming yet, and Ludwig was already exhausted. Too heavy—the uniform and boots and gun were weighing him down far too much. Expending too much energy. He let go of Gilbert for just a second, to slide his rifle off and let it sink beneath, and was quick to reclaim Gilbert and drag him back up.</p><p>Gilbert started twisting, turning, trying to see what was going on around him, so scared and confused, and in his daze he kept on unintentionally pushing Ludwig underneath the water as he tried to lift up a bit and gather his bearings.</p><p>He was gonna drown here, he knew it then, as he couldn't even get a word in, so frequent was the water above his head.</p><p>Gilbert happened to look over in his panic, and glimpsed an instance of Ludwig's head falling once more beneath the water for his thrashing. A hand snatched out and tangled up in his shirt, pulling him up, and Ludwig used the opportunity to sputter, "Be still! We're home, Gilbert!"</p><p>They stared at each other then, one hand tangled in the other's shirt and the other arm working together in a very clumsy tread, and Gilbert looked so lost and bewildered.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Ludwig tried to get Gilbert to look over the shore, lifting his head and hissing, "That's Germany! I brought you <em>home</em>, you stupid bastard, so fuckin' <em>swim </em>before you drown us both!"</p><p>Gilbert saw the lights far off, the shore, and Ludwig didn't know if Gilbert <em>knew</em> that he was home or not, if he understood, and it didn't really matter; the second frightened Gilbert saw that distant shore, he made a break for it, swimming towards it as hard as he could. Ludwig was quickly left behind, because Gilbert was stronger than he was and a far better swimmer.</p><p>That bastard, was gonna leave him here to drown—</p><p>The waves were brutal, the tide was strong, and it was probably luck more than anything that kept Ludwig afloat then, or maybe he completed that swim because he'd be goddamned if Gilbert survived and he didn't when Gilbert was the only reason he was here. Anger probably fueled him.</p><p>The shore they reached wasn't shore at all; just rocks, beneath the shelf of land, above which lied a road. Gaslights, in the distance. Gilbert managed to get his balance there on the rocks, getting high up enough to get out of the surf, but he couldn't reach the top.</p><p>Ludwig was dashed upon the rocks far more times than he was comfortable with, getting banged around and cut up as he tried to grab hold. It was only when Gilbert looked back and saw him that Ludwig was saved, when Gilbert spit a curse and then grabbed his arm to yank him up. Wanted to be hopeful, but Ludwig knew that Gilbert had only dragged him up because he needed Ludwig to help him up this dirt wall and onto land. It was dark and they were lost, and trying to swim down the coast a bit to find an easier way up was simply not an option.</p><p>Ludwig coughed up water, and then he rasped to Gilbert, "Lift me up."</p><p>Couldn't lift Gilbert up first; was too scared Gilbert would walk off and leave him down there below. Without a word, Gilbert maneuvered him around, grabbed Ludwig around the thighs, and lifted him up as high as he could. Gilbert had been drugged up for days on end, but it was funny how strong adrenaline made even the weakest man.</p><p>Ludwig grabbed hold of the guardrail above, hauled himself up after a good struggle and pushes from Gilbert, and then he leaned over and extended his arms. Hauling heavy Gilbert up like that was exceptionally hard, and he had nearly dropped the bastard before Gilbert managed to get his boots up on land.</p><p>They toppled over into the dirt and snow beside the road, pitiful and freezing.</p><p>Ludwig coughed up water long after he was on dry ground, on his hands and knees, retching and gasping for air. Gilbert lied on his back, staring up at the sky and panting, although from exhaustion or terror Ludwig couldn't say.</p><p>Long, horrible minutes of choking, before Ludwig lifted his head, and looked around. Didn't see anyone else, no one. Couldn't see if any of the Finns had made it—too dark, and Ludwig was too damn tired and dazed.</p><p>The distant glow of fire on the sea.</p><p>He fell onto his stomach shortly after, collapsed entirely, and zoned out.</p><p>It was when he heard air raid sirens in the distance that he lifted his head, woke up, and Ludwig forced himself to his knees, crawling over and grabbing Gilbert by the arm and yanking him up.</p><p>Gilbert was still breathing through his mouth, shivering and so exhausted, so out in space now that his life was no longer in danger, and it was a struggle for pitiful Ludwig to haul pitiful Gilbert up to his feet. Didn't know where to go, so he just dragged Gilbert down the road and started wandering towards the lights in the distance.</p><p>The Finns were gone, one way or another, and Ludwig was on his own.</p><p>Ha! Couldn't wait to tell Lukas he had survived a marine mine. Was creating a rather nice list of things that couldn't seem to kill him, and Lukas would find it either hilarious or infuriating.</p><p>They reached the town a good hour later, slow as they walked and as unsteadily, and they turned into the streets. He found a bench shortly after, in a little park, threw Gilbert down on it, and collapsed beside of him.</p><p>One of the strangest moments of his life, tossing his head back and staring up at the sky as Gilbert sat there next to him in identical posture. They watched stars through their stupor until the pale light of dawn began to light up the sky.</p><p>The last of the sedatives steadily faded from Gilbert's system and clarity was returning.</p><p>With it came that rage.</p><p>A hand suddenly wrenched in his collar, Gilbert jerked him sideways, and the next thing dazed Ludwig knew, Gilbert had snatched Ludwig's pistol out of its holster, pressed it into Ludwig's chest, their noses touching, and Gilbert looked well beyond deadly.</p><p>Well. Here was the chance Gilbert had to make his little brother dead for real.</p><p>Too tired to even bother lifting his hand, Ludwig just stared at Gilbert and waited.</p><p>A low hiss.</p><p>"Where am I? Huh?"</p><p>Meeting Gilbert's eyes, so dark and stern, Ludwig just smiled.</p><p>"Guess we're near Travemünde. Happy? How about you just go down to Lübeck and take the train to Berlin? Go wait for the Reds there. Isn't that what you want?"</p><p>A flash of fury, and Gilbert pressed the gun so furiously into Ludwig that he knew it was leaving a bruise.</p><p>"What? Did you think you'd bring me back here and everything would just go back to normal? Did you? Wanna come back home and pretend nothing ever happened? Is that what you think?"</p><p>Hurt, rising up.</p><p>Kept on seeing Berwald's face. That horrible devastation on the brink.</p><p>Gilbert shook him.</p><p>"You think bringing me back home would make me forgive you?"</p><p>Maybe he had hoped, just a little, but he realized in that instant that he actually didn't give a damn anymore.</p><p>So tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, Ludwig just retorted, with far more bitterness than he meant to, "No. I never want to be here with you again. I just didn't want you die in Finland. If you wanna die, that's fine. Keep trying. I just wanted you to die here at home. I wasn't trying to come back. I was gonna throw you here and then leave. I didn't want anyone there to get hurt because of you. I've already hurt enough people because of you."</p><p>The crinkle of Gilbert's nose. An odd contortion of his face, quickly pushed aside. No smart comments that time, however, and instead Gilbert removed the gun from his chest and tucked it into his belt.</p><p>A tired sigh.</p><p>It sounded so stupid in hindsight, sayin' it like that. Had always known how stupid it was, but saying it to Gilbert felt far beyond idiotic. Selfish; had risked more than his own life to get Gilbert here. Didn't know if those Finns were alive or not. What had happened to them. Putting others yet again in danger because he was too proud.</p><p>Out of nowhere, Ludwig threw his head back once more upon the bench, and started laughing, quite loudly. Laughed so long and hard that he started coughing, from the water still hanging there low in his throat, and Gilbert just stared at him.</p><p>He gasped for breath, leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, smiled over at Gilbert, and said, boldly, "Just fuckin' shoot me, Gilbert. Just shoot me. You wanna shoot me? Go ahead. You like shootin' people, don't ya? Shoot me. Hey— Wanna know something else? Since you already hate me? You wanna know why I was always so scared of your friends? Hm? I'm in love with a man, Gilbert. How's that? Huh? Does that make you hate me more, huh? Just fuckin' shoot me. I was always so afraid of you, because I knew if you ever found out, you'd arrest me yourself and throw me into one of those damn camps, wouldn't you? You wouldn't'a thought twice about it. Would that have made you happy? I'm not like you. I don't like hurtin' people. I'd do anything for you, Gilbert, but I won't hurt anyone else for you. So just shoot me."</p><p>Gilbert was swallowing, jaw clenched and brow low, breathing quite heavily through his nose, very clearly infuriated and yet also looking quite devastated.</p><p>Ludwig smiled at him, and just waited.</p><p>Had said it, at long last. Gilbert knew. Whatever happened then, Ludwig was rather proud of himself for looking Gilbert in the eye and admitting it.</p><p>But Gilbert didn't shoot him. When he finally tore his eyes away from Ludwig, he stared straight ahead for a long while, still breathing so forcibly, and then, very abruptly, Gilbert stood up. He lingered there for a moment, staring ahead at nothing, and then, with an exhale, Gilbert turned and walked away, unsteadily.</p><p>Gilbert left Ludwig alone there on that bench, and disappeared.</p><p>Didn't shoot him.</p><p>He had brought Gilbert home, and for that, Gilbert turned aside. They were even. Done and over with.</p><p>Ludwig was left to sit there in silence, and realize his situation.</p><p>Here he was, all over again. Back home, the place he had been so desperate to escape from. Had come back here willingly, and now paid the price. Trapped, all over again. Alone and helpless. Had given every bit of himself to avoid going to Norway, and had now stepped foot back into the lion's den.</p><p>He hung his head then, and dissolved into tears.</p><p>His hands were shaking.</p><p>Gilbert was gone. Berwald was gone.</p><p>He was alone.</p><p>Every time he found his foothold, the ground just shook again. Found himself lost in some unknown place, a stranger and utterly alone. Even in his homeland. Nowhere to go, when you didn't belong anywhere.</p><p>Someone waited for him yet, though.</p><p>He'd promised Berwald that he'd do everything in his power to get back to them, and that was what he would do. By god! That man was <em>his</em>, and no force on this Earth could have kept Ludwig away from him.</p><p>When the sun broke over the horizon, he stood up, and started walking.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. My Shoes Keep Walking Back To You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 24</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>My Shoes Keep Walking Back To You</strong>
</p><p>Gilbert went back into circulation quickly, as Ludwig knew he would.</p><p>Proud. Stubborn.</p><p>Ludwig knew, because he was somehow unfortunate enough to run into the son of a bitch, not even two fuckin' weeks after he'd come back to Germany. Ten days, to be precise.</p><p>Even though he hadn't really wanted to trek back, Ludwig had found himself in Berlin all the same. Didn't really know where else to go. Needed help to cross the border, and didn't know who to turn to for assistance. Spies, everywhere. Not safe to ask around. Berlin had seemed like the place where it was most likely for him to encounter someone who could help him.</p><p>Just didn't know how to start a conversation.</p><p>Needed Timo's connections now, no doubt about it. Had lost his Finns, and was helpless.</p><p>No conversations were needed, because Ludwig had wandered aimlessly down a bombed street one day, so lost and alone, and as he stumbled through the rubble he rounded a corner and ran straight into a group of soldiers.</p><p>Ludwig staggered clumsily to a halt before them, staring at them in terror. Wouldn't have been scared at all if the one at the head hadn't been Gilbert, of all damn people.</p><p>Unbelievable!</p><p>Why was his luck so bad? Wished Lukas was here to fuss at him.</p><p>A rifle aimed at Ludwig from behind Gilbert's back, and Ludwig knew right off that it was because he just looked so damn suspicious and because his uniform was very old. A soldier out here alone like this with no gun and looking rundown? They surely thought he was a spy.</p><p>An awful silence.</p><p>Good to see Gilbert back in his element, he supposed, if nothing else. Gilbert was protecting Germany now, as the Red Army crept ever closer and the RAF came constantly to bomb Berlin. Had been three bombings already, in the brief time Ludwig had been here. Gilbert had been put back into ranks quickly enough to defend the homeland, now that everything was starting to fall apart. He wondered if Gilbert had tried to talk his way into going back to Finland, wondered how he had even gone about explaining how he had come to be here. If he had been relieved to be back in Germany.</p><p>He must have been happy, surely, being home.</p><p>Ludwig wished <em>he </em>could be home, too.</p><p>Where was Berwald, now? Couldn't really seem to give an effort to do anything, without Berwald there.</p><p>So when another soldier raised up his rifle alongside the other, Ludwig just stood there silently, placidly, and didn't say a word. Was too tired to even bother, and too anxious to try speaking.</p><p>Gilbert stared at Ludwig as if he'd just parachuted down from the fuckin' sky.</p><p>Surprise. Alarm. Maybe a little fear.</p><p>The men waited for Gilbert's command, for his opinion of this suspicious person, and with every passing second, Ludwig was more certain that Gilbert was going to give the command to shoot.</p><p>'I wish you'd'a died instead.'</p><p>Here was the chance to make that a reality, a far better one than before, given that Gilbert would no longer sully his hands. Gilbert had every reason to shoot him. Ludwig was everything, after all, that Gilbert hated. No more secrets; Gilbert knew everything about Ludwig now.</p><p>But Gilbert just stood there, still staring at him like that, and long seconds passed.</p><p>Finally, at Gilbert's apparent immobility, one of the soldiers spoke up, trying to get an order to come from Gilbert's lips.</p><p>"Should we shoot him? That uniform must be three, four years old. Don't even make those anymore. He's not a soldier. Probably a spy or something."</p><p>Gilbert was yet silent.</p><p>Suddenly, there was the awful grinding and whirring of an air raid siren, and that startled Gilbert enough to drag him out of that stupor and wake him up.</p><p>An inhale, as Gilbert looked over to see that rifle pointed at Ludwig.</p><p>Ludwig expected him to say, 'So hurry and shoot him, and get it over with.'</p><p>Instead, Gilbert tucked his hands in his pockets, and just said, in a very terse voice, "No. He's not a spy. Look at him. Just some stupid kid that wanted to come help. Probably stole his father's uniform. We got bigger things to worry about than boys tryin' to act like men."</p><p>The situation diffused.</p><p>Rifles lowered, shoulders dropped, and one of the soldiers lifted his chin and said, "Kid, why don't you just join up for real, huh? We take everyone we can get now. Hell, I gave a rifle to a fuckin' twelve-year-old yesterday."</p><p>Gilbert had turned his eyes away.</p><p>Ludwig didn't say a word, too dumb with adrenaline and something else to speak, and just lowered his gaze to the pavement. He may not have been twelve anymore, but he sure as hell felt like he was, then. Ashamed and afraid. Alone.</p><p>Gilbert should have had him shot.</p><p>Gilbert turned his eyes up to the sky then, on the lookout for planes, and finally said, "We gotta go. Move."</p><p>The soldiers started walking.</p><p>Gilbert lingered behind.</p><p>When the soldiers were far away, out of sight, Gilbert marched on Ludwig, and Ludwig stood there and braced himself for whatever Gilbert was about to dish out. A hand snatched out and tangled up in his collar, wrenched him forward, and he and Gilbert were chest to chest.</p><p>Gilbert leaned in, and pressed his lips against Gilbert's ear. A furious tone.</p><p>"This is the last thing I'm doing for you, <em>brother</em>," Gilbert hissed in his ear. "Get outta here. Go to Switzerland, you'll be safe there. You want that, right? Huh? You don't wanna stay here and fight, 'cause you're a coward. You disowned us all, didn't ya, so go there. Stay right here in this street. Hide in a building. I'll—I'll send someone tonight to get you over. Stay in Switzerland. Stay there. I'm not ever gonna see you again. Don't you ever think about coming back."</p><p>Ludwig was silent, Gilbert's lips still pressed against his head as his hands clenched the front of Gilbert's shirt, trying to get as much out of this final contact with his one true brother.</p><p>"Don't—don't try to find me when the war's over. I don't want you around. I don't wanna see you. Don't come back here. You're not a German anymore, so don't ever come back. Got it?"</p><p>It would have hurt so much more if Gilbert hadn't been trying so <em>hard </em>not to cry. If Gilbert hadn't been clinging to him so tightly, if Gilbert hadn't been pressing them so closely together and resting his head there against Ludwig's, if his voice hadn't been thick and shaking.</p><p>A long time they stood like that, Ludwig unable to speak and Gilbert breathing too hard.</p><p>His brother.</p><p>At the last second, Gilbert suddenly murmured, in a voice that broke, "If I had known— I would never have put <em>you </em>in a camp. I'd'a just pretended I didn't know a damn thing."</p><p>Gilbert pulled back, then, when he was composed, his fingers still clenched in Ludwig's shirt, and lifted his chin.</p><p>"Get outta here. Don't ever come back. Go. Goodbye."</p><p>Ludwig could only stare at him, and say, "I love you, Gilbert."</p><p>The first time he had ever said it aloud.</p><p>A short flash of regret in Gilbert's eyes, but he didn't repeat those words back. Not this time. For the first time.</p><p>Gilbert let him go, and took a step back.</p><p>"Go."</p><p>He went.</p><p>They walked away from each other yet again.</p><p>Ludwig turned back at the last second to say, softly, "Don't you dare die, Gilbert. You're invincible, remember?"</p><p>Gilbert stopped, twitched his head just a bit, but in the end he didn't look back, and carried on.</p><p>Goodbye.</p><p>Hiding himself safely inside a bombed down house, Ludwig just sank down to the rubble beneath, and even though he was smiling, he started crying.</p><p>The final farewell between them, although not planned, had somehow meant more to Ludwig than anything else Gilbert had ever said to him. Somewhere, deep down, Gilbert still loved him, despite his declarations otherwise. However much of a disappointment Ludwig was to Gilbert, Gilbert still loved him, and he knew then that Gilbert always would.</p><p>The best he and Gilbert could have ever hoped for, perhaps.</p><p>Their paths had split again, and this time forever.</p><p>The second goodbye was always harder.</p><hr/><p>Three days later, he was in Switzerland.</p><p>Had never in his life envisioned himself being there, and it was quite devastating. Felt so alone, wandering around in a daze, lost and disoriented. Didn't know where he was, and didn't know where to go. The man Gilbert had sent had brought money, no doubt Gilbert's final parting gift, a substantial amount, but Ludwig didn't know where to start.</p><p>Had never truly set off on his own, now, had he, considering that his last attempt had been thwarted.</p><p>Oh, how he missed Berwald.</p><p>Switzerland had a bit of the look of Sweden, but it didn't feel the same. Ludwig had elevated Sweden into impossible standards of near divinity, perhaps, because it felt as if his life had really begun there. Had met them all there, and so Sweden held his best memories. Nothing was ever the same.</p><p>Switzerland was pretty, but cold. Distant.</p><p>He didn't know where to go, who to turn to. Didn't know how to get out of Switzerland when all along its borders were war zones. Was entirely clueless as to how to return to Finland from here.</p><p>He wandered for an entire month, here and there, spending as little money as he could, using it only to spend a night indoors when it was too cold otherwise, staring at people always, and maybe, more than anything, he was just hoping someone would notice him and come save him.</p><p>Hoped someone would see him there and know he needed help.</p><p>Problem was that there was a war, and everyone needed help, in one way or another, and pitiful Ludwig didn't stand out as much from the crowd as he would have liked.</p><p>Needed to be more proactive, and so Ludwig finally spent a little money to head into dark bars at evening and look around for someone who looked like they might have known smugglers. But people all looked like people to Ludwig, and no matter how many times he sat there with a beer and looked shiftily around, no one ever seemed to catch his eye.</p><p>Two weeks of that, and then, when he was somewhere near Lucerne, staring at the mountains in the distance with a pang of homesickness, he sat down in a bar, and silently mourned. Felt trapped and scared. Alone here.</p><p>He must have looked so pathetic by then, run-down and unshaved and a little too skinny. He'd bought new clothes, had thrown that uniform out for good, but they were already pretty worn and dirty.</p><p>An hour or so later, a man sat down beside of him.</p><p>It took Ludwig a while to look over, wallowing in misery as he was, and saw a man ordering a beer, glancing over at him frequently. A blond man, very neat and well-dressed, not particularly friendly looking. Ludwig just lifted his chin in acknowledgement, and turned aside.</p><p>They sat in silence, until, perhaps half an hour later, the man finally spoke to him.</p><p>"Damn, kid, you've seen better days, huh?"</p><p>That was far beyond an understatement, so Ludwig stayed silent and stared down into the last of his beer. Just wanted to get back home. The frustration was becoming stifling.</p><p>At his silence, the man suddenly switched to French and started speaking, and Ludwig finally looked up and turned his head, to say, during a pause, "No, sorry— I just didn't know what to say."</p><p>A very prying gaze, very intense and very stern, and Ludwig was easily stared down.</p><p>He took up his glass to finish it, as the man did the same.</p><p>"Where are you from?" the man asked, as they slammed down their glasses at the same time.</p><p>The cigarette smoke in the bar was starting to get to him. Head pounding.</p><p>"Nowhere," he replied, maybe rudely.</p><p>"Where are you going?"</p><p>"Nowhere."</p><p>A short scoff.</p><p>"Well, you sure did find the right place for that."</p><p>They fell silent, and Ludwig could feel that intense man scrutinizing him, and he knew that the man assumed he was probably homeless or a recent refugee, because he certainly looked that way by now.</p><p>Sure enough, when Ludwig meant to stand and leave, the man said, "Sit. I'll buy you another round. You want something to eat?"</p><p>Ludwig stood still, and felt suddenly so <em>stupid</em>.</p><p>How the hell had he even gotten to this point? A remarkably unbelievable, unfortunate chain of events. Could never have sat down before anyone and explained to them perfectly how he found himself here right now.</p><p>He must have appeared as lost and confused as he felt, because the man reached out, grabbed his arm, and yanked him back down onto the bar stool. A clap on his back, and Ludwig just sat in silence, picking at his food when it came and feeling rather ill.</p><p><em>Feeling</em> as stupid as he actually <em>was</em>, was quite unpleasant.</p><p>The strict man beside of him chided him until he ate, though, and Ludwig glanced at him more frequently, trying to gather up his courage and ask if, just perhaps, this man might have known someone who could get him the hell out of here.</p><p>Didn't get his chance; when he glanced up with intent, it was to see a very pretty girl coming towards them. He clamped his mouth shut, the chance passed, and Ludwig turned his eyes back down when the girl had suddenly come up to them, standing there between them. He was a little surprised to see a girl here at all, in this rough place, and when she put her hand down on the man's shoulder, she sent Ludwig a smile.</p><p>"Hello."</p><p>Ludwig gave a quick nod, and a muttered, awkward, "Hey."</p><p>"Well," she said, as she looked them over, "It's nice to see my brother making friends."</p><p>Friend was a very strong word, and the man was quick to point that out.</p><p>"Just sittin' together is all."</p><p>She reached out, giving her hand to Ludwig, and said, "I'm Lili. Nice to meet you. This is Basch, if you didn't know already."</p><p>"Oh," he said, dumbly, and then squeaked rather than said, "I'm Ludwig."</p><p>Couldn't ever say why girls talkin' to him terrified him more than a battle did. Could have died when she suddenly sat down beside of him, staring away at him. Was certain his face was blazing red. Why had they honed in on him? Did he look <em>that</em> bad?</p><p>Their charity, perhaps.</p><p>"Where did you come from?" the man suddenly asked.</p><p>"Berlin."</p><p>A strange look.</p><p>"Ran from the bombs, huh? Didn't think it was that easy to just up and get outta there."</p><p>Ludwig scoffed, staring into his beer, and grumbled, "It's not."</p><p>The point got across, and Basch just gave a short, "Hm!"</p><p>It was the girl who asked, "Where are you staying?"</p><p>Ludwig said, yet again, "Nowhere."</p><p>Her look of pity.</p><p>How disgraceful he felt then, how ridiculous. A grown man, and so helpless.</p><p>She was considerably nicer than her counterpart, and sent him another smile, and Ludwig ducked his head down in embarrassment. Must have considered him a total wreck, these two, because he was.</p><p>"You came a long way," she said. "You can come stay with us tonight."</p><p>Her brother sent her a stern look, but it had already been said.</p><p>Ludwig accepted, because he didn't have anywhere else to go. She seemed happy enough, and shortly after Ludwig found himself walking behind them and pondering. When he could get the man alone again, he would try to ask about possible associates.</p><p>The house he was led to was beautiful, in the center of a pretty street, well-lit and well tended. Ludwig felt quite abashed, setting foot into their home, dirty as he was, but the girl pushed him through the door regardless. She was on him in a second, fussing over him and happy enough to clean him up, apparently. She walked him to the bathroom, handing him clothes that must have been her brother's, and took his old ones with the promise to clean them.</p><p>Felt quite in heaven in that moment, able to take a bath and get clean. The first time he relaxed in so long.</p><p>When he came out, the man was waiting for him, observed him, and said, offhandedly, "Not bad. Sit down. Want a haircut?"</p><p>Did they have nothing better to do? Was this a pastime of theirs, picking scraggly mutts up off the street? Ludwig was hardly one to complain, either way, and very gratefully nodded his head.</p><p>Hours later, when his clothes were washed and cleaned and his hair was trimmed, when he was shaved and feeling far better, they all sat down for dinner. Ludwig bided his time, watching the man, but his hopes were steadily dwindling. These two just didn't seem like people who would have known anyone who engaged in illegal activities. Seemed too prim and proper for that, they were clearly wealthy, and didn't have that sort of air about them.</p><p>They led him to the living room after, and they all sat down before the fire as they tried to engage Ludwig in gentle conversation.</p><p>He turned his head to the window, and stared at the snow. Wanting to be somewhere else, when once this place would have been a dream.</p><p>His melancholy did not go unnoticed.</p><p>Basch teased him a bit, and said, "Why you look so sad? You're in Switzerland! Most people look happy when they cross that last border."</p><p>He should have been happy, he knew that. Switzerland was everything he had wanted once. Now he felt as if it was slowly stifling him. Couldn't stand hearing those thunderous explosions so far away. Wondering what was happening. Flashes in his mind of Timo and Magnus crawling through undergrowth. Lukas dressed in white and hiding in the snow behind trees. Berwald, poor Berwald, unfocused and halfhearted, blinking lethargically behind the scope of his rifle.</p><p>Home.</p><p>Basch saw his fidgeting and wandering gaze, and finally collapsed down beside of him on the sofa, asking, out of nowhere, "So! Where you <em>tryin' </em>to get to, huh? Was this really your final destination?"</p><p>Ludwig glanced over, looked Basch up and down, and scoffed.</p><p>"That easy to see?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Ludwig sighed and sat up straight, running hands over his face tiredly as he tried to unscramble his mind. Guess it wouldn't hurt to be honest. He was in neutral lands—no danger of Basch being a spy. In theory.</p><p>So Ludwig finally said, "This wasn't where I wanted to be at all. Went the wrong way. I needed to get to Finland."</p><p>Basch balked at that.</p><p>"Finland? The hell you wanna go there for? You really did go the wrong way. I'm sure you coulda just gone. Finland and Germany are still allies. Couldn't have been that hard for you."</p><p>"It's...complicated."</p><p>Very.</p><p>Lili spoke up, and murmured, "A refugee running into battle. Hm..."</p><p>That tone of her voice, the expression on her face—reminded Ludwig of Lukas, really did, and that made his stomach twist up with homesickness. They were his family now, and he would have done anything to get back to them.</p><p>Ludwig cut to the chase, and asked, heavily, "Don't guess you know anyone that can get me there?"</p><p>The siblings shared a glance, and the girl lifted her brow.</p><p>Basch said, drolly, "Yeah. Guess I do."</p><p>Ludwig snapped his head over in shock. Hadn't honest to god thought that he would be so lucky, really didn't, had only been half serious.</p><p>He must have looked astounded, because Lili uttered a laugh.</p><p>"Really?" Ludwig pressed, urgently. "You really know someone? Will they help me?"</p><p>Basch looked Ludwig over, intensely, and then said, "Yeah, I know someone. Me."</p><p>Stunned into silence.</p><p>Ludwig's face fell, because he thought for a second he was being had. He hung his head, hissed air through his teeth, and muttered a curse. Didn't have to tease him.</p><p>They must have realized he didn't believe them, because Basch suddenly shoved at his shoulder, and griped, "What? Don't I look the part of a smuggler? I've been getting Jews through to safe lands for years now. Haven't been shot yet. Have a little faith in me."</p><p>"'We', he means," Lili interjected, and Ludwig looked them back and forth in awe.</p><p>No way in hell. Not these two. Didn't look the part at all. Which may have helped, actually, yeah, but...</p><p>Quickly, Basch amended, "Well, <em>I </em>can't get you all the way into Finland personally, you know? But I can get you to the sea, easy, and I can get you someone who can finish the trip."</p><p>Ludwig hesitated.</p><p>Torn between elation and the nervousness he felt at getting these people involved, after the disastrous trip here. Had lost those Finns, as far as he knew, and didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of him. Innocent people paying the price for his stupidity.</p><p>But he had to get back to Berwald, had to, no other choice, woulda died if he hadn't been able to, and so Ludwig finally asked, formally, "Will you get me to Finland?"</p><p>Basch smiled, and nodded his head.</p><p>Ludwig reached down a bit frantically for his wallet, opened it up and counted what he had left from what Gilbert had given him. A good amount, but how much did it cost to smuggle someone? That was so dangerous, oh man, what if what they asked for was more than he had, what the hell was he gonna do—</p><p>A hand on his forearm, and he looked up as Basch shook his head.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," was all he said.</p><p>Shame.</p><p>"Please," Ludwig tried, ashamed then to even meet Basch's eyes. "Just let me—"</p><p>"No. We do this because it's the right thing to do. Not because it's a job."</p><p>Basch settled the matter by taking Ludwig's wallet, closing it, and tossing it back in his lap.</p><p>"Get some sleep," Lili said. "You need to rest. Just relax. We'll handle everything from here. Gather your strength up."</p><p>He felt low as dirt then, but so happy, so elated, thinking he was really going to be able to get home at last, and he didn't argue at all when they led him to a bed. Accepted it so gratefully, and was out like a light.</p><p>Just waiting, now.</p><p>He was under their wing for two more weeks before they had his path figured out and everything ready to go. He was so indebted to them, more than he could express, and swore to himself that when everything was said and done, when the war was over, he would find them again and somehow repay them. Made it easier that way, to accept their charity.</p><p>They started driving one morning, right back up into Germany and then all the way through. It was so easy—Basch just flashed papers at the border, for all three of them, and Ludwig's must have been good enough because there were no issues. They made it look so easy. Basch gave him the papers afterwards, and said, "Keep them if you want. They won't do you any good, but if you want a souvenir."</p><p>Ludwig snorted, and tucked them away.</p><p>Wouldn't do him any good, Basch explained during the drive, because the border guard they had been inspected by was an old friend, and easily swayed. Whatever worked; Ludwig was happy either way. A good few days of driving up towards the sea, and though it was stupid, Ludwig watched the streets go by and kept an eye out for Gilbert. If only to see him one final time. He didn't, naturally.</p><p>They made small talk as they drove, and at one point Basch had asked, "So what's in Finland, anyway?"</p><p>Dumbly, without thinking, Ludwig had responded, "My heart."</p><p>Felt like a damn fool the minute the words left his mouth, he blazed furiously red, and Lili, upon spying his shade, had started giggling. Basch snorted, and had teased him a bit.</p><p>"Well! Love is the best reason to cross borders."</p><p>Yeah. It was.</p><p>He was glad they didn't press him about his apparent Finnish lover. Would have keeled over.</p><p>Then, one night, Ludwig found himself on the coast, standing on a pier, Basch and Lili behind him. A very familiar scene. Sure hoped he didn't get blown up again.</p><p>A very small boat, just like the one that had brought him here, but with a German crew this time instead of Finns.</p><p>When Ludwig boarded, he turned to look at them, and said, so deeply, "<em>Thank you</em>. For everything. Thank you. You don't know how much you're really doing for me. Whatever I can do one day for you... I'll do my best."</p><p>"Just don't die on the way," Basch snorted, waving Ludwig's gratitude off. "I'd be disappointed."</p><p>Ah, if only he knew how hard Ludwig actually was to kill.</p><p>The boat was untied.</p><p>Lili reached out at the last second, and held out her hand.</p><p>"Good luck, Ludwig! <em>Always </em>do your best, mm?"</p><p>Ludwig reached out over the edge and took it within his own, clasping it tightly, and was so <em>grateful</em>, beyond anything. For the both of them. Could never have put into words how hopelessly grateful he was.</p><p>"Get back safe, both of you. Thank you again. Be safe."</p><p>Their hands parted as the boat drifted from the dock, and she waved instead.</p><p>"Of course!"</p><p>As if it were no problem. Well, they had a certain kind of backbone, that much was certain. Seemed that neutral countries had an uncanny ability to produce the toughest citizens.</p><p>Basch waved, too, and the boat was on the way.</p><p>Ludwig crossed his arms over the railing and watched them until they were gone.</p><p>Meeting them was profound to Ludwig, on many levels, but above all else it was extraordinary because it reminded him, in the middle of all of this war and chaos and death, that there were still so many good people out there. Everyone at home had been fighting endlessly. So angry all the time. The war was driving them insane, and seeing those two reminded Ludwig that the outside world kept on spinning. There were still things out there worth surviving the war for.</p><p>The world wasn't all <em>bad</em>.</p><p>It was a beautiful feeling.</p><p>Until he got seasick again and threw up, and this time it was his fellow Germans laughing at him instead of Finns.</p><p>On the last day of February, Ludwig reached Finnish soil.</p><p>The Germans shook his hand and jostled him and wished him luck, and then were off.</p><p>The biggest hurdle down, and yet now he had to find his way back to those men. Had to try to find a way, find someone who knew how to get there, because all he knew was the name of the town. Didn't know the exact location, didn't know where it really even was in terms of geography. Could never have pointed it out on a map. Needed to get across another border, into occupied Finland.</p><p>So he took pen and paper, wrote down that town name from memory, emulating Timo's letters that he had burned into his mind, and just started flagging people down and showing them the paper.</p><p>Luckily, people seemed more than happy to help him, and Ludwig wasn't too dumb to know that it was because he was German.</p><p>Honestly, it was probably just folly on his part, even trying to go back. Things had been so tense, so fraught before he had left. They had been on the very verge of collapse, and without Ludwig there Timo was the only one left on that side. No doubt they had parted ways by now. But if Timo was still there, if only Timo, then Ludwig could at least be pointed in Berwald's direction.</p><p>It was the tenth of March that Ludwig found them, at last, after a good many days of hunting down someone to get him across that border.</p><p>Nearly three months sure had dragged on like years without them.</p><p>One afternoon, he was in that familiar looking town. Buildings he now knew like the back of his hand. People he recognized. The men in town stopped and gaped at him as he walked through breezily, all of them shouting to him in Finnish and waving, in disbelief, and Ludwig just smiled and inclined his head.</p><p>They were all shocked to see him, no doubt, after assuming him dead.</p><p>One of the Finns was so happy to see him in fact that he ran up to Ludwig, and tried to drag him over to table where a few men were drinking. Ludwig complied, because a free drink was always great. They all blabbered to him, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand and sharing incredulous looks, and Ludwig vainly enjoyed a bit of a moment in the spotlight.</p><p>Wouldn't deny being the center of attention felt quite good, because, hell, he was just happy to be alive and back home.</p><p>After the drink, he set off, feeling on the clouds and bold and confident, and when he took the first step onto that long dirt drive, he was truly home at last. That house he had once hated and now adored. No one on the porch; that was excellent, because he was very much looking forward to knocking and scaring the shit out of those bastards, even if it was just Timo.</p><p>He reached the door, lifted up his hand, and then stopped short, smirking away to himself. Eh, better not to knock at all. He would rather just open up the door and walk in and make a grand show of it, assuming of course that Timo was even here.</p><p>He twisted the knob, pushed open the door, and stomped inside, as heavily as he could, slamming the door shut behind him a bit dramatically.</p><p>A noise of surprise, and he turned his head to the living room.</p><p>And there they were, against all odds. How astounding! To see that they were still in the same place, and still together. They hadn't split up, and that was beautiful to Ludwig. Timo had leapt upright, and Lukas and Magnus were sitting together on the sofa, falling still where they were and mouths hanging open.</p><p>Ludwig sneered at them without meaning to, feeling somehow quite arrogant.</p><p>They stared at him in absolute shock. Had never seen looks of such fright and awe as he did then, as they stared at him.</p><p>It was Magnus who whispered, weakly, "Am I— Are you guys fuckin' seein' this or have I finally lost it?"</p><p>"The ghost by the door?" Lukas replied, thinly. "No. I...think I see him, too."</p><p>They stood there and stared at him for a long, awful second, and he stared right back at them, smiling away even as they looked terrified.</p><p>And then Lukas very abruptly and very aggressively leapt upright and whirled to the side and kicked the nearest table, screeching to absolutely no one, "I fuckin' <em>hate </em>you! You stupid, lucky bastard! Why won't you <em>die</em>?"</p><p>With that, the trance was broken, and Magnus lunged.</p><p>Ludwig tried hard to brace himself, but there was no amount of bracing possible that could have saved him when Magnus barged at him in that flying tackle. For what felt like the hundredth time in their history. As he had every other time, Ludwig fell, taken down by Magnus, whose arms were around his neck and weight pressing Ludwig down so heavily that breathing was impossible. The wind had been knocked out of him anyway.</p><p>Timo ran forward and skidded down, ruffling his hair, as if to see if Ludwig was real. Lukas was in there somewhere, too, probably the one trying to yank his arm off furiously.</p><p>Coulda cried, then, from how happy he felt. Seeing them again...</p><p>No words.</p><p>Brothers.</p><p>He kept trying to look over them, desperately, but they just wouldn't let him up.</p><p>Didn't see or hear Berwald.</p><p>Was Magnus crying?</p><p>Timo shoved the other two aside, pulled Ludwig upright by the collar, all but straddling him, pushed their foreheads together, and said, in a voice that was far too thick, "You— You <em>drowned</em>. You fuckin' <em>drowned</em>! What the hell! Why do you keep doin' this to me? Huh? They told me you drowned! They couldn't find you! You son of a bitch! Stop dying and then coming back! Make up your <em>mind</em>."</p><p>Timo seemed torn between fury and elation, because after that nuzzle he pulled back and punched Ludwig across the face as hard as he could, and then hugged him.</p><p>Ludwig, cheek red and nose bleeding, just sat there in Timo's arms and looked dazedly around the room. Hell, only Timo could ever be so happy to see someone that his first reaction was to punch them in the face.</p><p>And Magnus <em>was </em>crying. Was sitting there on the floor, legs splayed out before him, face buried in his hands and actually sobbing, loudly and heavily. Lukas couldn't stop reaching out and touching Ludwig's hair, and Timo was still squeezing the life out of him.</p><p>He had come back from the dead. Again.</p><p>Lukas knelt down, forced Ludwig's head over, his eyes very blank, and said, quite dangerously, "What's it gonna take? Huh? What the hell does it take to kill you? I don't get it. Bullets and bombs don't work. Drowning you and beating you doesn't work. How the hell can someone kill you? I'm gonna poison your sorry ass and see what happens."</p><p>Ludwig took that as, 'I'm glad to have you back', so he just pressed forward and butted heads with Lukas affectionately.</p><p>He managed to escape Timo's clutches then, and crawled over to sobbing Magnus, settling down in between Magnus' splayed legs and reaching out to grab his wrists and pull his hands down. Magnus squinted at him, pitifully, bawling away, and Ludwig was quick to lean down and kiss the miserable bastard's forehead.</p><p>Magnus, after all, had been the one to shoot Gilbert, had set the whole thing in motion in a way, and surely knowing him he had pinned Ludwig's death solely upon himself.</p><p>Magnus' hands shot up and grabbed the back of his head to hold him there, and they sat like that for a good minute, before Magnus pulled back.</p><p>The first thing he said, through those tears, was a deep, "Thank god you're back! Where's my money?"</p><p>Ludwig laughed, and that felt pretty damn good, after it all, and he tackled Magnus back down to the ground and they rolled around stupidly for a little while in that embrace, getting out their pent up emotions. That was far less painful than Timo punching him, at least.</p><p>A good few minutes of bruising each other, and then Magnus let Ludwig up. Ludwig was beaming away, so happy to be home, and sat up again, hair sticking out every which way and looking around. Sure was glad to see them, but...</p><p>Someone was missing, though, and the most important.</p><p>Wanted so badly to ask, but was momentarily terrified to, so instead Ludwig said, "I can't believe you guys are all still together. I really can't. I thought for sure I'd come back and you'd all be gone."</p><p>Short looks around, and then Lukas smiled.</p><p>"That's <em>why </em>we're still together, if we're all honest," Lukas murmured, reaching out to grab Ludwig's sleeve. "It was just... You dying like that—it kinda made us stop and think. You dying for your brother, even though he hated you. I think we realized how stupid we were being."</p><p>Timo smiled, a bit sadly, and clapped Ludwig's shoulder.</p><p>"Hey, guess you did something good for once, huh, you jerk."</p><p>If this entire, awful trip had served only to keep these passionate men together, if only that, then Ludwig was satisfied with it all.</p><p>Ludwig looked back and forth between them, and felt awe above all else, that Timo and Lukas had actually been able to come to terms with each other, had made up if only on the surface, had stayed together in spite of it all.</p><p>"It did make it easier that we haven't fought any since you left," Lukas admitted, as an afterthought.</p><p>Ludwig's brow crinkled a little, as he kept on looking around hopefully for Berwald to show up.</p><p>"Haven't fought at all? How's that?"</p><p>A silence.</p><p>Couldn't stand it, and Ludwig gathered his courage.</p><p>Finally, he opened his mouth, and asked, "Where's Berwald?"</p><p>Uncomfortable glances.</p><p>Ludwig's heart dropped, sank, and his face fell right along with it. Before he could break down without even knowing why, Timo reached out and gripped his shoulder and gave him a good shake, quick to say, "He's here. Don't worry. He's here."</p><p>So then where was he? Why did they look like that?</p><p>More glances, more silence, and then Lukas said, very smoothly, quite serenely, "He's just a bit out of commission right now. After you <em>died</em>, well. It was practically as if he did, too."</p><p>That awful hurt that rushed up. Had never meant for that to happen—</p><p>"He didn't take it very well, to say the <em>least</em>," Timo muttered, scratching at his cheek awkwardly. "We don't keep guns in the house anymore. We took 'em all into town, left 'em with another guy."</p><p>Magnus scoffed, and said, "Yeah. I— I walked outside and he was sittin' there on the ground in the snow, fuckin' gun up against his head. I've never moved so fast, I swear, tacklin' him and getting it away. He didn't move at all. I don't think he even knew I was there."</p><p>Ludwig hung his head, squinted his eyes, and felt like the worst guy on the planet, and didn't even really know why. Couldn't even believe it, could never have imagined that that would have even crossed Berwald's mind, that it was that bad. Had been so lonely all the time, yeah, and had shown a penchant for utterly shutting down at times, but Ludwig hadn't ever really thought it would ever go that far.</p><p>He should never have left.</p><p>Oh, that terrible image in his head, of Berwald sitting there despondently with a pistol up against his temple, staring off at the lake and caught in that endless mist. Not knowing which way to go and choosing instead to exit stage entirely.</p><p>The worst thing that had ever entered his mind, that picture.</p><p>Again, Ludwig asked, "Where is he?"</p><p>Timo lifted his eyes up to the second level, towards the bedroom. Ludwig set course for it instantly, scaling the stairs very slowly because he was rather afraid of what he would see. He stood before that door for far longer than should have been necessary, gathering his bravery.</p><p>He'd seen Berwald after he'd been shot. That awful rut. Couldn't possibly be any worse than that. Had seen Berwald at his lowest already, surely.</p><p>He pushed open the door.</p><p>A surge of relief, in some way.</p><p>A perfectly normal scene; the golden sunlight of early evening streamed in through the window, dust floating in the beams of light, and Berwald sat there on the edge of the bed, elbows rested on his knees and hands hanging limp between them. Staring at the floor.</p><p>Nothing Ludwig hadn't really seen before.</p><p>As he had been that once, Berwald was a wreck physically. Looked just like he had when he had staggered after Ludwig when he had tried to run. A little thinner, maybe, but nothing really terrible. The others had done an admirable job of keeping him alive. Had been grooming him and feeding him.</p><p>But then Ludwig came inside, and uttered, "Hey, there," and Berwald just didn't move. Not at all, didn't move a single muscle. As if he didn't hear Ludwig.</p><p>Ludwig came over, and called Berwald's name, gently, but there was no stir.</p><p>A twinge of unease.</p><p>Lukas had said he was out of commission, yes, but...</p><p>Ludwig sat down on the edge of the bed beside Berwald, but Berwald didn't twitch at all, didn't move, didn't look up. Didn't notice anyone was there with him. Ludwig reached out, grabbed Berwald's face, lifted his head and sat him up straight. Forced his gaze, and yet Berwald stared right through him.</p><p>Wasn't there at all. No lights on upstairs. As if he had become so depressed that all of his neurons had just shut down. Had gone catatonic. Just stared at Ludwig, right in the eye, and yet didn't seem to see him.</p><p>Took Ludwig <em>hours</em>, holding Berwald's face and murmuring to him, before Berwald finally woke up.</p><p>Ludwig was patient, endlessly so when it came to Berwald it seemed, and above that he tried so hard with Berwald then because Ludwig knew what he was feeling. Maybe it hadn't ever hit him quite that strongly, but Ludwig had slipped down that cliff before. Berwald just had it worse, it seemed. Could understand a little, on that level, and knew how hard it was to wake up and get moving from that state. How impossible it was to wake up and face the world and reality when all he had wanted to do was fade away and sleep.</p><p>Dark.</p><p>Berwald's words before he had left; 'I get lost.'</p><p>Was lost now, and just needed a little help to find his way back. Patience and persistence.</p><p>It was in that moment, really, that Ludwig realized how vulnerable Berwald actually was. Meeting that man the first time, he had been so intimidating, so frightening, so overwhelming, and now Ludwig could only see a little kid, scared and wandering alone in a fog.</p><p>When the sun had set and night had come, Berwald inhaled, deeply, and suddenly glanced up. Ludwig's voice had long since gone hoarse from his endless murmuring.</p><p>Ludwig broke into a smile, felt that relief flood in, and said, so eagerly, "Hey! There you are, big guy! Miss me?"</p><p>Berwald stared at him, silently, clearly still in space and probably wondering if he had died of misery and if he was just meeting Ludwig on the other side. Those dark blue eyes flitted over his face, lit up in the moonlight, analyzing and contemplating, and Berwald's brow was ever lowering.</p><p>Anxiety fell, and happiness rose up.</p><p>"What? I told you, didn't I? I'm hard to kill. I can't believe you tho—"</p><p>Didn't get a chance to finish speaking.</p><p>A furious embrace, so tight he was nearly snapped in half and certainly the air was pressed right out of his lungs, and Ludwig just rested his face in Berwald's hair and ran a hand down his neck and back.</p><p>There he was.</p><p>Ah, this big oaf. How Ludwig loved him, for whatever reasons. Was about to love him to death soon, though, when Berwald snapped his spine. To save himself, he grabbed Berwald's hair in his hands, and tried to pull his head back so the big bastard would ease up. It was a hard battle, intent as Berwald was, but eventually Ludwig yanked his head back a bit and Berwald slackened his death-grip.</p><p>Could breathe again.</p><p>Berwald let him go as suddenly as he had grabbed him, and looked around the dark room.</p><p>Knowing somehow what Berwald was thinking, Ludwig took his hand, and said, "You're not dreaming. I'm here. This is real."</p><p>Berwald's pulse was going to town in his neck, he stared at Ludwig so furiously that Ludwig was certain he smoldered, and then he spoke at last.</p><p>His voice was so husky from disuse that it cracked and was scarcely audible.</p><p>"You died."</p><p>"Nah," Ludwig said, giving Berwald's hand a tight squeeze. "I told you I'd come back. I meant it. You should trust me by now."</p><p>Didn't know what else to do except make light of the entire situation so that they could move past it as quickly as possible.</p><p>Berwald looked very, entirely confused, but a bit hopeful. May not have yet realized that he wasn't dreaming, but certainly was aiming to cling to this dream and hope against hope.</p><p>Berwald looked up at him, and asked, roughly, "Are we really together again?"</p><p>Ludwig smiled, and leaned over to kiss Berwald's nose.</p><p>"We're together," he affirmed. "We always have been. I won't ever leave again. I give you my word. Wherever you go, I'll go, too."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>Ludwig snorted, thumbs running over Berwald's cheeks, and he tilted his head as he replied, so casually, "Because I love ya."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>What could he say to that? Berwald had been alone, always, and Ludwig didn't think that there was anything he could really say that would even make sense to Berwald, especially now in this dazed and vulnerable state. It was hard enough for him to voice any sort of affection, let alone sit there and try to tell Berwald in words every single thing that Ludwig loved about him.</p><p>To attempt to explain how wonderful Berwald was, if only in his eyes.</p><p>A long wracking of his brain, and it wasn't nearly sufficient, nothing at all close to everything he had up in his head, but Ludwig eventually lowered his voice and said, simply, "Because you make me feel happy."</p><p>Happy—had never felt happy until he had met these men.</p><p>That must have been good enough, for now; Berwald buried his face in Ludwig's chest, and came slowly back to the world.</p><p>Yet again, they started over. It seemed that no matter what the world threw at them, whatever obstacles they encountered, whatever trials they were presented with, they always wound up back in each others arms.</p><p>It would always be that way.</p><p>Ludwig truly felt then that, even though the war wasn't over, they had passed their greatest trial. They had overcome it, had surmounted it, and it felt to Ludwig that they were invincible. Untouchable. He was getting far ahead of himself, perhaps, but his confidence was suddenly unrivaled. What could ever bring them down?</p><p>All of them, the five of them; they would always be together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Ragged Old Flag</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 25</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Ragged Old Flag</strong>
</p><p>No one fought anymore.</p><p>Peace, all around. It was quite glorious, but Ludwig knew better than to really get his hopes up all the way. Too much passion all around, and the war was ever raging. They had all taken a break to mourn Ludwig, and they took one now as Berwald found his feet. Berwald wasn't the leader anymore, but still held that sort of command, and they all waited until Berwald was alert and stable.</p><p>Ludwig enjoyed the serenity while it lasted.</p><p>All of them did, and for a few wonderful weeks there, it was just like it had been before, the five of them sitting there and drinking together. Having fun and laughing. Being happy. No one fought inside the house or out, and everything was calm. Lukas and Timo didn't exactly seek the other out and didn't make direct conversation alone, but they were civil to each other, and Timo laughed at Lukas' deadpan jokes.</p><p>Ludwig's favorite moments, though, were when they all laughed until they cried at something stupid Magnus had said, and then Ludwig would look over to his side to see Berwald staring at him, face calm and eyes lidded, and that giddiness would fade down into tranquility.</p><p>Just seeing Berwald. That made him happy.</p><p>Everything in the past was gone, done, Ludwig's terror had faded and Berwald's solitude had been cured, and the only thing they needed to do now was just survive the rest of this war so they could go home and stay there.</p><p>Ludwig had wonderful dreams now. Instead of barbed wire and brown shirts, Ludwig dreamt of Sweden, of the mountains, of him and Berwald sitting there on a hill and staring off into the sunset. Them together, old and grey-haired, still joking around with Magnus and Timo and Lukas.</p><p>In his dreams, all five of them were always there, together, with no strife.</p><p>He clung to that always, and tried to believe that it would always be so.</p><p>Everyone cared about Berwald, although Berwald was likely ignorant of that, and for Berwald everyone stayed home.</p><p>Until the end of April, anyway, and then Timo had had enough. After all, Finland always came first, and Ludwig didn't hold it against him because by then Berwald was back to where he had been before Gilbert had shown his face. Bounced back fairly quickly once Ludwig was back on scene, as usual, perked up and was once more strong and commanding.</p><p>Safe to keep guns in the house now.</p><p>Come May, Lukas and Magnus went back out, too, and this time, having learned his lesson perhaps, Timo no longer sought to thwart them.</p><p>They carried on as they always had, but that awful, aggressive tension of before was gone. Everyone minded their own business, as well as they could, and things seemed on the right track.</p><p>They all still hung over the radio in the morning, waiting for the war to end.</p><p>Never did.</p><p>By the end of May, Berwald stood up, looked around, and went back out, too, and so did Ludwig. Berwald didn't like to sit there and do nothing, hadn't become a fighter and a leader for that, and even if he had no more authority he still fought. Always would. Had Berwald not wanted to fight, he would have left already.</p><p>Timo was happy to have Berwald, as he had been to have Ludwig, and kept his mouth shut on the days that Berwald went with Lukas.</p><p>The war had to end soon, right? It had been <em>so </em>long, so long now.</p><p>At night, Berwald ran a hand through Ludwig's hair and sometimes spoke about where they would go after the war. Ludwig hung on his every word, and sometimes laughed, particularly the time Berwald had uttered, 'Maybe I'll buy another fishin' boat and put ya to work there with me.'</p><p>That jerk!</p><p>Ludwig feigned offense and squirmed away from Berwald's hand, retorting, 'Fine, if you want all of your catches ruined by me throwin' up all over 'em.'</p><p>Berwald smiled and tried to squirm his way back over, pushing through Ludwig's hands.</p><p>Nighttime was Ludwig's favorite. Getting to be side by side with Berwald, being close enough to feel his heartbeat, and above that, he loved those moments because at night together in bed was when both of them were safe and no harm would come to pass. They lived every day with the threat of death, and so night was when Ludwig was happiest. Nothing could go wrong in those wonderful hours. Everyone was safe.</p><p>But even in daylight, Berwald shined. Ludwig had promised he would never leave again, and Berwald seemed to take that to heart, and for it was in better spirits than Ludwig had ever known him. Maybe having stood upon the brink really brought Berwald out of his shell. Hated saying that, between them, Berwald was the more playful one suddenly. Felt like their ages had reversed, as upbeat as Berwald was.</p><p>How bizarre!</p><p>Magnus sometimes gawked at Berwald, because at times during their nightly drinking Berwald actually opened his mouth and told a joke. They weren't good jokes, but everyone howled all the same because Berwald was just so <em>serious </em>about it, and hell, they were so bad they were good. Ludwig hadn't even known Berwald knew any jokes at all.</p><p>Once, when Lukas had been gone, Berwald had crept into his room and rearranged all of his clothing in the dresser, because he knew it would drive Lukas crazy. Ludwig watched him, bewildered, and said, 'I'm gonna get blamed for this.'</p><p>Coulda sworn Berwald smirked.</p><p>Sure enough, when Lukas had come back he had pitched a fit, and stalked straight out to Ludwig, crying, accusatively, 'You bastard! Stop tormenting me! Dead or alive, you always haunt me!'</p><p>Berwald had leered away at the wall, leaving Ludwig to Lukas' mercy.</p><p>Another day, as Ludwig had made breakfast, Berwald had offered to help. Should have been suspicious, but Ludwig was pretty dumb, so had agreed blindly, letting Berwald set up the table. Had gone rather normally, until Magnus had taken a swig of his coffee and instantly spit it out on the table.</p><p>Everyone jumped, except for Berwald, and Magnus had turned his eyes immediately to Ludwig and shouted, in their private language, 'You dick! What the hell? You come back from the dead and gotta fuck with me more? Not cute. I love ya, but ya test me sometimes, man.'</p><p>Ludwig stared at Magnus with confusion, a bit wounded, until Timo had giggled and asked what was wrong, and Magnus griped, as he wiped the table with a cloth, 'Fucker put salt in my coffee.'</p><p>Ludwig shot Berwald a look of absolute exasperation, but Berwald merely lifted his own coffee up, appearing very droll and quite primly bored.</p><p>Ludwig was on guard at all times suddenly, with Berwald being such a beautiful little brat.</p><p>Timo was next, and it didn't take long.</p><p>Ludwig was minding his own business in the kitchen, pondering lunch, when he heard Timo shriek very wrathfully from above, '<em>LUDWIG</em>!'</p><p>Ludwig had actually jumped in alarm, and skidded out of the kitchen and into the living room. Was immediately aware of Berwald sitting on the sofa, newspaper held up in front of his face to no doubt hide his sneer, and Ludwig just braced himself as Timo came stomping down the stairs.</p><p>Oh shit—</p><p>Timo marched on Ludwig instantly, screaming, 'You jerk! The hell's gotten into ya, huh? Did dyin' again make you bored or something? Huh? <em>Not </em>funny!'</p><p>Lukas came out of his room, arms crossed, and drawled, 'What did he do to <em>you</em>?'</p><p>Timo shoved at Ludwig's chest, and said, 'He sewed a Red Star patch onto my fuckin' jacket!'</p><p>Ludwig rolled his eyes, envisioning Berwald creeping out in the dead of night just to sit and sew that stupid thing onto Timo's jacket. What a mental image that was.</p><p>Lukas covered his mouth with a hand, scoffing quite happily.</p><p>Timo slapped Ludwig's cheek, sharply, stomped back off, and Ludwig pouted all day. Berwald made it up to him that night, maybe, but still! Where had Berwald even gotten a Red Star patch out here? Timo must have had some somewhere on some of his little trophies. Berwald surely was testing the limits. Would get Ludwig beaten to within an inch of his life soon if he kept it up.</p><p>The hell was happening?</p><p>Ludwig was utterly befuddled, but entirely charmed if he were honest. Seemed that Berwald had a bit of a hidden childish side that wasn't all petulant, after all. It was so odd, and so Ludwig just kept his mouth shut because honest to god no one was going to believe him if he tried to tell them that it was Berwald pranking them all and not Ludwig.</p><p>Berwald was getting payback, perhaps, for all of the shenanigans Ludwig had pulled back in the day.</p><p>Ludwig, far from being irritated, loved every second of it. Berwald was worth surviving the war for, more than anything else on the Earth.</p><p>Days passed.</p><p>June of '44 was halfway finished.</p><p>Ludwig woke up, and felt <em>happy</em>.</p><p>They had always been together, the five of them, or at least it felt that way. Hadn't ever not been together, and hadn't been apart since. Ludwig had been with them for four years, had spent his pivotal years finding himself with these men, and for that they were meant to stay together.</p><p>They truly were brothers by then, each of them would have given their lives for one of the others, in spite of allegiances. They had fallen into themselves, into their routines and their roles. Even though they still fought on different sides, all of that was left outside the door every night, and when they were together the war outside was forgotten. Timo and Magnus had settled quite well into each other, Berwald and Ludwig were steady and sure, and Lukas never missed a single beat.</p><p>Even Berwald and Magnus had been exceedingly civil to each other. Perhaps not as warm and casual as they could be, but there had been no arguments, no fights, no harsh words. Just occasional looks of mild distaste from time to time, but hardly more than that. Sometimes they just looked at each other, and there was absolutely nothing there upon either of their faces. No love, certainly, but no dislike either.</p><p>Everything was going perfectly well, as beautiful as was possible for a group of men as crazy and counterproductive as they were.</p><p>Berwald had stopped pranking everyone, but only because he was probably worried that Ludwig would end up getting shot. He sure did still torment Ludwig, jumping out at him from around corners and hiding his shoes and stealing his clothes when he was in the bathhouse. No matter how hard Ludwig tried, he could never be angry with Berwald. Never.</p><p>Hoped it would be like this forever.</p><p>Then came a very warm day in June, and, as they sat together that night to chat, Timo came walking into the middle of them and fell still.</p><p>Ludwig glanced up at him, smiling away still at Magnus' last joke, Berwald was laughing for once, and they waited.</p><p>Timo looked around at them all, and said, "I'm going. I'm leaving for a while, alright?"</p><p>Magnus inhaled, and looked shocked, and it was clear that Timo hadn't discussed this at all with him before so randomly announcing it. They sat up straight, and all smiles fell.</p><p>Damn.</p><p>It was Berwald who asked, with a low brow of irritation, "Where to?"</p><p>How unprofessional, Berwald must have been thinking. Timo was the leader; he wasn't supposed to just up and leave his men unsupervised, even if half of those men didn't listen to him at all in the first place. Ludwig agreed. Timo was their compass—they had seen too well what happened when Timo abandoned them and left them alone.</p><p>Without looking at Magnus, Timo said, "I'm going down to Viipuri. The Reds are trying to take the islands down there. The Finnish Navy is holding them off. I'm gonna go volunteer to keep an eye on land, in case the Reds storm the beaches."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Ludwig lowered his eyes to the floor, and wished, sometimes, that Timo was less ambitious. They weren't soldiers, and those kinds of battles were far above them. Timo was one man, not part of a division. What did he think he could really do, just one man against the Red Army?</p><p>Timo was brave and fearless, and so reckless.</p><p>Magnus was pale as a sheet suddenly, and Lukas placed a hand on his back as if he were afraid Magnus would suddenly keel over. Looked pretty dizzy, come to think.</p><p>No one said a thing, and Ludwig could feel Berwald shifting uneasily beside of him.</p><p>Timo summed it all up with a rather concise, cool, "I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't know how long I'll be gone. You guys will be fine on your own, for a little while. We've got our own routines here. You won't even notice I'm gone."</p><p>What a lie!</p><p>An awful surge of adrenaline.</p><p>Instantly, Ludwig opened his mouth, and said, "I'll go—"</p><p>He cut himself short, abashed, and averted his eyes to the floor.</p><p>Shit—wanted to go with Timo, because they always went together, always looked out for each other, but he had promised Berwald that he would never up and leave again. He and Timo were the closest things to countrymen here, and Ludwig couldn't really stand Timo going out into a real battle like that, with no one backing him up.</p><p>A long silence, and Ludwig was quite shocked when it was broken by Berwald, who said, in Ludwig's stead, "I'll go with you."</p><p>Ludwig looked up, to see Berwald staring at him rather than Timo. Understood that Berwald knew Ludwig wanted to go, why he had stopped, and was telling him, in his own way, that it was alright.</p><p>Bolstered, Ludwig just said, "Me too."</p><p>Timo seemed shocked, but very pleased, very eager, and Magnus looked sick. Hated it for him, really did, but it was better perhaps if Timo didn't go alone.</p><p>Timo was stoked, and said, mostly to himself, "Good—having two good shots will be damn useful if the Reds get close."</p><p>Magnus stood up, very abruptly, and walked outside. Lukas followed him.</p><p>Of them all, Timo really seemed to be the only one that truly thought he could make a difference, that or Timo just figured Finland was worth giving his all to even if it didn't matter in the end. Ludwig admired Timo, and for that he followed him.</p><p>That night, Berwald and Ludwig pressed their noses together, and Berwald muttered, "Why are ya always gettin' me into trouble?"</p><p>Ludwig smiled, and kissed him.</p><p>"What would you do without me? How boring your life would be, without me here to keep everything exciting. You owe me anyway, all the trouble you've gotten <em>me</em> into lately."</p><p>Not the kind of excitement anyone needed or wanted, that was for sure, and Berwald actually rolled his eyes. It was so unusual and so random that Ludwig started laughing and couldn't stop, at least until Berwald shut him up quite aggressively.</p><p>Best to make the night worthwhile. Lord only knew what the hell Timo was going to get them into.</p><p>In the morning, Magnus was nowhere to be seen. As always, he refused goodbyes, to keep his imaginary world from crumbling. Lukas watched them go, and was muttering under his breath. At the last second, Ludwig turned back to him, and said, with a wink, "Hey—put some money down with Magnus about what won't kill me this time around. It's a Navy, this time, so now we have ship cannons on the list. I haven't seen one of those yet."</p><p>Lukas just replied, so suavely, "I hate you."</p><p>With that, they were gone.</p><p>Ludwig and Berwald sat in the backseat and watched the forests go by, and halfway through the drive Berwald reached out and grabbed Ludwig's hand.</p><p>It was the 28th of June. Their destination wasn't far at all. Just a two hour drive.</p><p>Viipuri.</p><p>The Russians called it Vyborg.</p><p>When they stepped out of the car and opened the panels under the trunk to get the guns, Ludwig looked around. They were in a small town, pretty and quaint. On the distance, however, the sea was visible, and so were the black plumes of smoke, The mighty ships there in the surf, far out. Could hear the explosions in the distance, and the ground sometimes shook.</p><p>"Who's fightin' here again?" Ludwig asked, as Timo tossed him his rifle, and Ludwig soon regretted it.</p><p>"Finnish Navy. A German regiment, too, I think it's the 122nd, or something." Timo sent Ludwig a bright smile as he handed Berwald his rifle, and added, "Germans under Finnish command! You know what <em>that </em>means."</p><p>Ludwig narrowed his eyes and pretended to ignore the rest of Timo's statement.</p><p>Still, he was pretty sure his face tinted a little when Timo drawled, quite seriously, "That's means <em>I'm </em>your daddy down here, <em>Ludde</em>."</p><p>A short silence.</p><p>Was Berwald burying his face in his sleeve?</p><p>When he finished dying inside, Ludwig lifted his chin up and said, "If <em>you </em>get shot here...it was probably just me."</p><p>Oh, man, was he glad that Lukas and Magnus weren't here. Would have heard that one for the rest of his life. Woulda haunted him for eternity.</p><p>He glared at Timo's back, in futile, as Timo led them on, and when they came up to some Finnish soldiers, Timo began blabbering away, no doubt offering up their services. Timo jerked his thumb back towards them, and was likely quite proudly saying that he had two very good snipers.</p><p>The Finnish commander immediately clapped Timo's hand, and sent them off.</p><p>Timo led them towards the sea, and up upon an embankment. It was protected by sandbags and other objects that had been used to make a haphazard fort, and Timo very happily hunkered down there with a pair of binoculars. Down below was the bay, and the little town. Finns and Germans alike, making plans and watching the Reds approaching. Underneath where they rested, there was a makeshift machine-gun bunker.</p><p>Berwald was ever stoic, obediently placing his rifle atop the barricade, resting on his knees, and taking a moment to observe his surroundings. Ludwig was too busy still trying to murder Timo with his eyes to bother. Nothing happening now, at any rate.</p><p>That day, all they did was just watch over the bay, and nothing at all exciting occurred. Ludwig had actually spaced out for a long while there, until a plane had zoomed rather lowly overhead.</p><p>The explosions in the distance always woke him up. Seeing the huge, smoking cannons of those ships.</p><p>Days passed in this manner.</p><p>This wasn't exactly their sort of scene; this was mostly a naval battle, and at times that of air force. They were merely reserves in a sense, waiting for the Soviets in the case they breached the defenses and began storming the bay. With that in mind, it did get a bit boring, Timo sitting there ever with his binoculars, Ludwig and Berwald keeping watch over the Finns and Germans below.</p><p>Same thing, over and over again.</p><p>The only excitement they got was in the show of the grand ships out on the sea, Russian battleships firing at Finnish ones and the occasional German boat. It would take days to tell if the Reds would manage to break the lines and set foot on the beaches.</p><p>Until then, Berwald zoned out and Ludwig tried not to fall asleep.</p><p>On the third day of this routine, as the Red ships seemed to creep closer, there was a fright.</p><p>Ludwig and Berwald had been mindlessly swiveling their rifles, and if they were very lucky they managed to snag a Red a day on the distant ships, but most of those bullets were knocked off course by the wind of the sea over the long distance.</p><p>And then suddenly in that lull Timo said, out of nowhere, "Hey—is that your fuckin' brother down there, Ludwig?"</p><p>The world stopped.</p><p>Berwald and Ludwig turned their heads at the same time to Timo, who had lowered his binoculars down just a bit, and Berwald suddenly clamored forward, absurdly, and snatched the binoculars from Timo's hands.</p><p>He was shaking suddenly, trembling, and oh, god, he coulda died when Timo suddenly sneered at him, and said, "Oh, wait. My mistake."</p><p>Timo started laughing, Ludwig realized he had been had, and both he and Berwald shrieked to Timo at the same time, "That's not funny!"</p><p>Christ almighty!</p><p>Had nearly given him a panic attack, had nearly given Berwald a coronary, and Timo was cackling, laughing so hard he was nearly crying, even when Berwald threw the binoculars as hard as he could at Timo's chest. Timo caught them, and couldn't stop giggling.</p><p>When Berwald stood up, he knocked Timo over backwards with his boot, gently but sternly, hissing, "You're such a little shit!"</p><p>Timo lied there on his back for a while and laughed, the most he had laughed since they had been in Sweden, and Ludwig knew that he was laughing so much then because none of them had had any good damn reason to and he was getting out a good bit of stress in that moment. That was the only reason Ludwig didn't crawl on top of Timo and strangle him.</p><p>Whew. That adrenaline rush. So jittery now. His hands were shaking.</p><p>So were Berwald's.</p><p>Timo was the worst sort of little hellion.</p><p>Berwald plopped back down beside of Ludwig, blew air shakily through his teeth, and picked up his rifle. Ludwig considered it a minor miracle that he didn't aim it at Timo.</p><p>When Timo finally stopped laughing, he wiped at his eyes, and said, "That was for tormenting everyone lately, you son of a bitch. Come at me with a Red Star again and see what I do to you." Berwald may have winced a bit. "Anyway. I trust you're both wide awake now. Good! Don't fall asleep over there. I see you bastards takin' your naps."</p><p>A bit of overkill on Timo's part, and Ludwig made damn sure not to fall asleep on the job after that. Berwald too, and Ludwig caught him often pulling back and shaking his head very fervently to force himself back into alertness.</p><p>The next day, they didn't fall asleep at all, and not because of Timo—the Reds were close, very close, far too close. Could see the Red Star on a ship now without the aid of binoculars. The cannons took aim upon the land defenses.</p><p>Berwald and Ludwig were suddenly getting in a many good shot, because the Reds had come that close. War yet again very much upon them, Timo once more leading them to face off against the great Red Army.</p><p>Some of the mortars came far too close to them, and Timo had traded in his binoculars for a machine gun, propped up behind their small fort. The town below was what they strove to defend then. There was no offense here from the Finns nor the Germans, who were giving all of their efforts just to hold onto those defenses and not let the Reds take everything.</p><p>Too much ground had been gained already, and on the fifth day, Timo spat, bitterly, "The Reds are getting too close."</p><p>The Reds were winning, but Timo wouldn't say that aloud, stubbornly refused, and so they stayed yet, huddled behind their barricade and shielding themselves every time a blast came close. Every time the ground shook, Berwald's eyes left his rifle to check on Ludwig instead, and Ludwig did the same.</p><p>Fear crept closer right along with the Reds, and they hadn't slept in forever, too scared to, trying to keep their position, as the other soldiers did all along the bay. This little patch was theirs, and they wouldn't abandon it unless forced to.</p><p>In the dead of night, a small boat with a handful of Reds had come close to shore, perhaps attempting to land and plant explosives, but Timo had spotted them, turned the gun on them, and they were quickly taken care of.</p><p>Berwald shook his head sometimes, and Ludwig could practically hear him thinking, 'Whose idea was it to give that crazy son of a bitch a machine gun?'</p><p>Ha. Ludwig loved Timo.</p><p>Morning came. It didn't bring good sights.</p><p>Ludwig looked out, and saw that Red ship right out on the surf, far too close. Shit—seemed that retreat was inevitable. The Finnish ship that had kept it away had been fired upon and crippled, useless now.</p><p>They held yet, the Finns, stubborn bastards, and Ludwig respected them for that.</p><p>But that ship...</p><p>Ludwig always watched it out of the corner of his eye, terrified as he was of it, and rightfully so, as it turned out several minutes later.</p><p>The gun suddenly swiveled, and Ludwig turned his head to see himself very brusquely staring down the black void of that huge ship cannon. Time actually stopped, the second he stared into that black hole. Saw the end of the world there, he swore it. Frozen up, helplessly. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Bristled out in nothing less than terror.</p><p>Holy shit—</p><p>Timo looked over, too, and Ludwig could hear his sharp inhale. Ludwig cried out to Berwald at the same second that Timo reached out and snatched Ludwig's arm, dragging him back, and damn Berwald just looked over, dumbly.</p><p>The awful hiss of air as the gun fired, the shell hitting the ground beneath them a split second before the sound of the explosion could be heard. Blew them back, in a flurry of fire and smoke and dirt, grass and sand. The world went black for a moment. His hearing shot out, replaced with an awful shrill ringing.</p><p>Dazed by the force of the blast. Immobile and helpless. Smoke everywhere. Couldn't see.</p><p>Hell, fuckin' hell, was he still in one piece—</p><p>Movement beneath him, and it took him a long while to figure out that he had knocked back on top of Timo. Hands reached up and gripped his sleeves, shaking him, and it was a long, stunned minute before Ludwig had the mobility to roll over and off of him.</p><p>That embankment had saved their lives. That gun would have blow them all to hell otherwise. The ship had aimed at the soldiers just beneath them, at the machine gun bunker there, and for that they survived.</p><p>Timo grabbed Ludwig's collar, twisted him to look him over, but Ludwig still couldn't hear, and no doubt Timo couldn't either, because his lips sure as hell weren't moving. They just stared at each other, dumbly, making sure the other was alive. They were, miraculously; cut all to hell, covered in black from the smoke, singed and bleeding all over, but alive. Ludwig broke out of Timo's grasp and turned back to look for Berwald.</p><p>The smoke was clearing.</p><p>Could see Berwald nearby. Hadn't been blown back as far as they had, and Ludwig was already scrambling for him, standing up and then falling flat on his face as his balance had been thrown off. Timo made it to Berwald before Ludwig did, but maybe that was because Ludwig was absolutely petrified to get close and see if Berwald was hurt.</p><p>Couldn't stand the thought.</p><p>He fell down to his knees beside of Timo, and could already see the blood seeping into the ground. Berwald was covered in dirt and soot, but most of the blood seemed to be coming from his legs, gashed all to hell from the shrapnel.</p><p>Dumbly, Ludwig immediately burst into tears and grabbed Berwald's arm, trying to get his attention, so that Berwald would tell him that everything was alright. Berwald was awake, was wincing, his glasses gone off to who the hell knew where, and Ludwig was a blubbering mess.</p><p>Timo grabbed Ludwig's collar and threw him backwards, shoving him aside, and barked, "Don't touch him!"</p><p>Terrified and dazed, Ludwig came back over, trying to get to Berwald and grab him up, because he didn't know what else to do. When he was afraid, when he panicked, Ludwig didn't think straight, and never listened, reacted on instincts.</p><p>When he grabbed Berwald's arm again, Timo whirled around and punched Ludwig in the face to knock him back.</p><p>He fell, and that time he sat there, blood from his nose joining the rest of the blood pouring out of his cuts. Watched them, stupidly and silently, as Timo reverted to Swedish to speak to Berwald, and it was very clear that Timo was trying to figure out if Berwald was dying, what he could do about it, and if moving Berwald was going to be more damaging than leaving him still.</p><p>Ludwig, as he often did under emotional pressure, shut down a bit.</p><p>Timo was always so clearheaded when it came to the wire, could focus and handle it, never cracked. Never faltered, The only time Timo ever lost his edge was when he was angry. Timo never got scared, never panicked when there was danger, and god, how Ludwig wished he possessed that trait.</p><p>Berwald hissed and gasped back to Timo as Timo interrogated him, Timo quickly and efficiently assessed the situation, and when Timo was apparently satisfied by Berwald's answers, he called, "Ludwig! Help me."</p><p>Ludwig wasted no time in crawling forward, and together he and Timo carted heavy Berwald upright and carried him off as quick as they could back behind the battle lines. Ludwig could barely see, crying as he was. It was the shock of the explosion that kept him moving then, that kept him from absolutely shutting down entirely, as Berwald hung there over his shoulder and left an awful trail of blood behind them.</p><p>Berwald was the calm one, but that may have also been because of the shock.</p><p>They went to the first line of soldiers, set Berwald down, and medics were already running over.</p><p>Ludwig clasped Berwald's hand, and pleaded, pitifully, "Please don't <em>die</em>. I came so far to get back to you."</p><p>Berwald scoffed, hanging there on the brink of unconsciousness, and muttered, with a bit of a slur, "How come I haveta listen t'you? Ya never listen to <em>me</em>."</p><p>Ludwig laughed, cried a little more, and then conceded, "I guess you have a point. I'll make it up to you. But you gotta live for me to do that."</p><p>Berwald stared up at Ludwig quite serenely, all things considered, and that was the last Ludwig saw of him, as he was picked up by the medics and carted away. Was left behind there with Timo, bleeding and sick and so terrified.</p><p>Timo placed his hands on Ludwig's shoulders, leaning down over him and dripping blood atop Ludwig's neck for it, and said, very sternly, "Sit right here. Don't you move. I'll be back."</p><p>Ludwig, in his daze, took Timo very literally, and sat right there in that same spot on the grass, not twitching a muscle at all as he stared off into nothing.</p><p>Sat there for an hour, and then another, before Timo finally came back.</p><p>Perhaps seeing that Ludwig was a breath away from collapse, Timo reached down, yanked him to his feet, and then led him along. As always, Ludwig followed where Timo led, but this time Timo led him into the tiny hospital in the town, overflowing and crowded. Men all over, soldiers and civilians alike, in every corner of the halls.</p><p>Ludwig couldn't stand the sight nor smell of it. That awful chemical smell, blood just underneath.</p><p>Timo dragged Ludwig along, left him in the quietest possible corner, some little waiting room that looked more like an abandoned supply room. It was calm there, no wounded men, and the smell wasn't so bad. Timo sat him down in a chair, and hovered over him, tapping his foot and waiting impatiently for something, always glancing to the door.</p><p>A while later, Ludwig gathered the sense to lift his head, and ask, "Is he okay?"</p><p>"They're working on him," Timo murmured, as soothingly as he could. "They're doing their best. Try not to worry so much. I think he'll...survive."</p><p>Hadn't said, 'I think he'll be alright.'</p><p>Ludwig hung his head again, because it felt too damn heavy to hold it up. He and Timo were bleeding all over everything, but in light of the more serious injuries the doctors were tending to, it hardly seemed to matter at all. Timo's neck was entirely rust-colored by then, from a gash on the side of his forehead that was still leaking. Ludwig kept blinking in agitation, as blood kept running into his eye from some cut up on the top of his head.</p><p>They looked horrific, and felt that way, but they weren't bad off.</p><p>Berwald—oh, had to be alright, had to be. They had pulled through so many things, had surmounted seemingly impossible odds. It wasn't right for one of them to go down <em>now</em>, not now, not after so much. The war was getting more furious, more fast-paced, and so it had to end soon. Couldn't have handled anything happening to Berwald now only for the war to end in the next few weeks. Couldn't even fathom it, couldn't stomach that thought.</p><p>Felt so nauseous, pale and clammy and swallowing compulsively.</p><p>Timo stared holes through the door, and an hour or so later it became obvious as to why.</p><p>The door pushed open, and Ludwig was quite shocked to see Magnus and Lukas there. Timo must have gotten a hold of them and told them what was happening. He was damn glad to see them, glad they had come, because he needed all the help he could get then. His head was a wreck.</p><p>But he very quickly found out why Timo had brought them down; the very second they walked in, Timo stood up and went to walk right out.</p><p>Magnus called, anxiously, "He—hey! Where are you goin'?"</p><p>Timo looked over his shoulder, battered and bloody and looking rather frightening, and said, simply, "Back to fight."</p><p>Lukas scoffed, derisively, and looked away, as Magnus scrambled after Timo to grab his arm.</p><p>"Are you crazy? You almost died! What are you thinking? Berwald's already in there on the table—you tryin' to join him?"</p><p>Timo shook Magnus off, easily, and said, in a far steelier voice, "That's why I'm goin' back out. To kill some more of the bastards. Keep an eye on Ludwig. I'll be back when I'm back."</p><p>Timo was gone then, slamming the door in Magnus' face, and Ludwig stared at the floor between his knees.</p><p>Nothing less than he could have expected. Finland always came first, but it hurt all the same, because if it had been Timo that had gotten hit hard, Berwald woulda sat right here beside of Ludwig in the hospital to be near him. Didn't seem right, but, hell. That was life, he guessed. Everyone had different ways of handling things, and Timo's way of dealing with it was to go kill more Reds.</p><p>So be it.</p><p>He didn't care what Timo did or didn't do; just wanted Berwald to be alright. His stomach was churning endlessly, as he fought constantly between either breaking down into more tears or throwing up right there.</p><p>Had to be alright. Berwald had promised to take him home after the war.</p><p>Perhaps in an effort to take Ludwig's mind off of it, to ease his terror, Lukas suddenly knelt down before him, grabbed his hands, and met his eyes. Ludwig glanced up, blearily, and honestly thought that Lukas was going to give him another one of those very rare moments of motherly affection, as he had that day when Ludwig had been terrified of Gilbert.</p><p>That look on his face.</p><p>Ludwig almost started bawling, waiting for Lukas to hug him, as Lukas' thumbs ran over the tops of his hands.</p><p>But then Lukas opened his mouth, and very nearly hissed, "It <em>was </em>a fucking ship cannon, you son of a bitch. I actually put money down on it, you bastard, and I lost because you won't die. I hate you so much. So much. You don't know."</p><p>Ludwig burst into laughter but also into tears, and pressed forward to rest his head on Lukas' shoulder and use him as a towel.</p><p>Lukas just knelt quietly still, as always. What a damn jerk.</p><p>Magnus, probably trying to keep himself from crying, uttered, "Yeah, that's right. You owe me that money. Thanks, Ludde."</p><p>They were trying to cheer him up, and it worked just a little. A minute later, he lifted his head, wiped his eyes, and griped, "What the hell kinda assholes are you guys, puttin' bets on your friend's life? Shitty guys, the both'a ya."</p><p>"It was <em>your </em>idea," Lukas primly snitted back.</p><p>Oh, yeah.</p><p>Lukas stood up, patted Ludwig's cheek, and then left the room, no doubt to go be nosy and see how things were going. Magnus sat down next to Ludwig, and they both silently panicked over their stupid, stubborn men.</p><p>Hours passed.</p><p>Lukas came and went, to check in, and after the fifth hour Ludwig stood up and started pacing, because he was too sick to sit still. Magnus watched him, back and forth, for an hour, and then it must have pissed him off because he forced Ludwig back into the chair, went to fetch a towel and some water, and it was Magnus suddenly kneeling before Ludwig, cleaning him free of blood and dirt.</p><p>Magnus was trying to keep them both occupied, so they wouldn't think too much.</p><p>Eight hours. Ten. Twelve.</p><p>Night came.</p><p>No word yet from Lukas, who was very likely practically hovering over the operating table, knowing him, trying to figure out what was happening.</p><p>Ludwig leaned his head against Magnus' shoulder, Magnus leaned into him in turn, and they tried to sleep, because sleeping was better than wondering. It wasn't easy, but they eventually managed to drift off, in and out, as time ticked away.</p><p>In his mind, he just saw Berwald there, lying next to him and telling him those stupid plans, where they would go after the war, where they would end up, what they would do.</p><p>Berwald had made a promise. Couldn't die without fulfilling it. Ludwig wouldn't let him, no matter what.</p><p>When the hour felt very late, the door opened and Lukas stuck his head in and called, "Hey. Come here."</p><p>Ludwig woke up quickly enough at that, bolting to his feet and startling Magnus awake in the process. They clamored unsteadily after Lukas down the hall, back into that awful smell of a hospital in war, and Ludwig's heart was pounding so fast he thought he would faint.</p><p>Lukas led him to a door, before which stood two men conversing lowly. They looked up, and Lukas clearly really had been hovering by the door the entire time, because he had known they were coming out and obviously hadn't spoken to them yet, for he asked, "You speak German? Is he gonna be alright?"</p><p>One of the doctors hung around as the other walked off, and he looked them over, covered in blood and looking like he could use a twenty-year nap. All the same, he smiled, waved his hand rather casually, and replied, "Ah, yeah, don't worry too much, eh? He'll be fine. He won't walk right anymore, though, but he'll live, if <em>that's </em>what you wanna know."</p><p>After seeing so many things, it was no doubt easy for the Finn to be so casual about it. So upbeat. To him, not walking right was something close to being absolutely fine.</p><p>Ludwig felt more like the ceiling had fallen down on him.</p><p>Didn't feel all there. Wasn't operating at his best then, barely lucid as he was, and the words just somehow didn't really sink in. Didn't understand what was being said, even though he heard it all clearly.</p><p>A crease of weariness in Lukas' brow, as he pressed, "What d'ya mean won't walk right? How do you mean?"</p><p>The Finn waved his hand again.</p><p>"We just dug almost a kilo of shrapnel outta that guy. Those legs were shredded to hell. Lucky we saved the damn things at all. That right leg, though—he's never walking straight on <em>that </em>thing again. It'll be a bad limp, assuming everything goes well. He might still lose it. I don't know. We'll see. If he doesn't, he'll need a cane, for sure, once he's out of the wheelchair. And he'll probably be in pain forever, but hell, he ain't dead. Just send this guy straight home when he's out. He's never fighting again."</p><p>With that, the Finn walked off, so airily. So easily. Nothing at all for him.</p><p>Never fighting again? Ha—that was almost a relief, or it woulda been anyway, had it not been for everything else.</p><p>When had he sat down on the floor? Didn't remember, but Magnus was suddenly kneeling in front of him again, whispering to him. Didn't understand a thing. Felt rather confused, if he were honest. A bit out in space. A grip on his arm, and Magnus pulled him upright, and led him back down the hall and once more threw him in the chair.</p><p>Now what?</p><p>Just wanted to go to sleep.</p><p>It was nighttime now, but he wasn't lying beside of Berwald, and he wasn't able to stare at him and know he was safe.</p><p>They sat there, all of them, and it was deathly silent.</p><p>Lukas almost looked a little lost. As if Berwald suddenly out of commission for good might have actually rattled him a little. Ludwig couldn't really have ever said why. Lukas had always done what he wanted, when he wanted, and had only ever wanted Berwald's consent as a formality. Berwald wasn't even the leader anymore, and yet Lukas suddenly looked as if he had just lost his way.</p><p>Berwald meant so much more to them than he realized.</p><p>Timo came back, at dawn, and when everyone was quiet and still, it was finally Magnus who had to grumble to Timo and try to explain the situation.</p><p>That crinkle in Timo's brow; Ludwig liked to think that it was worry for Berwald, and not for how much Berwald would no longer be doing for Finland.</p><p>With Timo, though, he never knew.</p><p>Later on that day, they all found themselves in a room around unconscious Berwald, and it was far too familiar. Ludwig could very safely say that he had liked it a hell of a lot better when it had been himself in that hospital bed. Couldn't handle it being Berwald.</p><p>Hadn't yet sunk in somehow, in Ludwig's mind. Tried not to really think about it. Berwald was going to survive—that was all that mattered, in the end.</p><p>Ludwig glanced up then and looked over Berwald, caught Magnus' eye, and was a little struck by the expression on Magnus' face.</p><p>Magnus looked so fuckin' <em>sad</em>. Like he coulda burst into tears. Magnus hated Berwald, and yet here he sat now, looking as miserable as Ludwig felt. How strange. Maybe when it came down to it, when it really came down to it, Magnus would have offered his own life and safety for Berwald as much as he would Timo, and maybe Berwald would have done the same for Magnus, even if neither of them would have ever admitted it aloud.</p><p>Could only hate someone so much without starting to love them a little.</p><p>Magnus suddenly hung his head, and whispered, so miserably, "Why does this keep happenin' to us?"</p><p>Timo replied, perhaps too harshly, "Because we're fighting in a war. This is what happens."</p><p>That wasn't the right answer to give, because Magnus hadn't been asking for a very technical explanation. Timo was intentionally being an ass, because he was angry then, agitated, and took it out on Magnus as he always did.</p><p>Magnus wisely stayed silent.</p><p>Lukas, as usual, did not, and murmured, so silkily, "It's almost as if someone keeps putting his men in battles that are well beyond their skill."</p><p>They weren't soldiers, that was true; they were just men with guns, and Timo marched them out into real war when they should have stayed in shadows. Even Ludwig had only been a soldier for a year, had no more value in that sense.</p><p>In all fairness to Timo this time, just this one time, Berwald and Ludwig had volunteered. Timo had been planning to come here alone.</p><p>Timo opened his mouth to raise hell, and Ludwig finally found his voice, to plead, "Please— <em>Please </em>shut up. All'a ya. Please shut up. Please."</p><p>He was near tears, could barely speak, was a breath away from falling onto the floor and crying himself senseless like he used to, and that was why they fell silent and turned away from each other.</p><p>No one spoke at all after that.</p><p>The next afternoon, Berwald woke up, if only barely.</p><p>Came around for just a few minutes, looked around very blearily, and somehow found Ludwig through his daze, and Ludwig held his hand.</p><p>The first thing Berwald said, when his eyes fell on Ludwig, was, "I listened to ya. I think."</p><p>Was very clearly still out of it, barely conscious as he was, drugged up, but Berwald started smiling, and Ludwig tried to be brave. He clenched Berwald's hand in both of his own, and grumbled back, "Damn right you did. Even <em>you</em> know better than to cross me."</p><p>Magnus tried to smile.</p><p>Berwald drifted away shortly after, and Ludwig buried his face in the blanket.</p><p>Timo came and went.</p><p>A week later, Berwald was lucid upon waking, but clearly in much more pain for it, because the doctors had started giving him much less medication. Supplies were tight, and men still came daily in that needed it more. Ludwig tried to distract him from the pain, gripping his hand and whispering in his ear.</p><p>Berwald just looked around, brow scrunched and eyes squinted, and asked, "Is everyone else alright?"</p><p>"We're fine," Timo called, because Berwald couldn't see him from where he stood without his glasses.</p><p>"We're both fine," Ludwig confirmed.</p><p>Berwald fell back into the pillow, closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths in an effort to stave off what was obviously a great deal of agony, and then came the question Ludwig dreaded above all else.</p><p>"Am I gonna make it?"</p><p>Ludwig opened his mouth and choked, and so Magnus said, "Yeah. You're gonna make it, man."</p><p>The silence afterwards was heavy.</p><p>Berwald opened his eyes, and looked up at Ludwig, as if trying to judge him and determine whether or not they were lying to him.</p><p>"Was it bad?" he asked, and Ludwig once more choked.</p><p>Couldn't <em>say </em>it. Couldn't do it. Couldn't look Berwald in the eye and tell him that he was done. Couldn't tell him that he had been permanently put out of commission. That he wouldn't fight anymore. That he could no longer carry on with this group that he had created. Couldn't hold Berwald's gaze and tell him that he was thirty-two, and was going to walk with a cane like an old man for the rest of his life.</p><p>He couldn't do it.</p><p>It wasn't <em>right</em>.</p><p>Finally, it was Lukas of all of them who smiled, if not a bit thinly, and leaned forward.</p><p>"It's alright, Berwald. You'll just walk a little funny, is all. It'll be alright."</p><p>Ludwig couldn't even lift his eyes from Berwald's hand there in his own.</p><p>Walk a little funny. Yeah... Good way to put it. Didn't make it feel less cruel, though.</p><p>Berwald's brow crinkled, a flash of confusion on his face, and it was clear that, just like with Ludwig, the words didn't really sink in. Berwald didn't understand, didn't comprehend. Ludwig kept on staring holes through the blanket, as Berwald's mind clearly whirred away. A shift of the sheet then, as Berwald tried to move his legs. He stopped immediately short, hissing in pain, and Ludwig was just close enough to hear that awful, very high-pitched whine that escaped his throat.</p><p>Couldn't fathom how much pain Berwald must have been in, and the more awake he became, the worse it obviously was.</p><p>Perhaps to take his mind from the agony, Berwald asked, gruffly, "Whaddya mean funny?"</p><p>Oh, that awful quiet.</p><p>Lukas was always the most composed amongst them, or almost anyway, and so it was once more Lukas who answered Berwald's question.</p><p>"The doctor says you won't be able to walk without a cane. From now on. If...if you don't lose it. But you're going to live. Take what you can get, Berwald."</p><p>Ludwig dared a glance up, and saw Berwald's jaw clenching, his nostrils flaring, his brow so low that his eyes were slits, and Ludwig wasn't entirely certain then if that look was from pain or anger.</p><p>Couldn't tell.</p><p>He reached up, absently, and wiped the cold sweat from Berwald's brow.</p><p>It was Timo, as leader, who finally had to look at Berwald and say, firmly, "You won't fight anymore."</p><p>A freedom fighter who couldn't fight. A rebel who couldn't take up arms. A man who had created a group and now could no longer be part of it.</p><p>No doubt Berwald had thought, at those words, 'How useless!'</p><p>It was obvious when his face fell, soon after, that that was exactly what he was thinking.</p><p>Ludwig thought Berwald would say, 'I'm a sniper, I don't need to run.' He thought Berwald would try to argue, try to fight against it, try to reclaim some sense of control. He thought Berwald would not <em>accept </em>that ruling, not that decision, not that way.</p><p>But there was only silence.</p><p>Berwald just lied there in that bed, and turned his head suddenly away from Ludwig. Quiet. Blank. Didn't say a word, and didn't look at any of them. He swallowed every now and again, face pale and a bit yellow, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he didn't want any of them around. The way his brow crept lower and lower, the way his jaw clenched and his teeth ground, and Lukas was the first to turn around and leave.</p><p>The others followed.</p><p>Ludwig lingered for a while. Not because he wanted Berwald to speak to him, and not because he wanted to speak to Berwald, but rather because his whole body felt so fuckin' heavy. He couldn't seem to get it together, even just to stand up.</p><p>Eventually, it was Magnus who came back in, grabbed Ludwig's arm, and hauled him upright.</p><p>Shutting that door and leaving Berwald alone was hard.</p><p>Days passed in relative silence.</p><p>Berwald didn't speak at all, not to any of them, not even to the nurses and doctors when they came in. Rather apathetic, at first.</p><p>After apathy came anger.</p><p>Ludwig, for his part, was still in shock.</p><p>Just a few weeks ago, they had been murmuring to each other in the dark and planning a future that had been precipitous but so magnetic. Maybe they had gotten ahead of themselves, but whoever could have blamed them? Ludwig couldn't exactly come to terms with where they sat now, as Berwald glared away at the wall and <em>always</em> was in pain.</p><p>Ludwig would have sat there in that room endlessly, but was frequently impeded by both nurses and his comrades.</p><p>It was the worst thing in the world, though, in those rare moments he was able to linger within sight, to see those bandages being changed, so coated in blood, and to see the way Berwald covered his face with his palms because he was in so much pain that he was trying very hard not to cry in front of them.</p><p>When the wounds started healing in the coming weeks, when it was clear at last that Berwald would not lose his leg, it was hardly a relief, because another awful pain came for Berwald, when the nurses would flex his legs so carefully, trying to get the muscles engaged, working, and Ludwig had only lasted one round of that because Berwald <em>had </em>started crying.</p><p>Couldn't take it.</p><p>They stayed with Finns in town those awful weeks, and Ludwig's face seemed perpetually buried in Magnus' chest or shoulder.</p><p>Pitiful.</p><p>He tried to stay in the hospital when he could, but it was very obvious that Berwald didn't want him there. Wouldn't look at him, wouldn't speak at all. Hadn't said a damn word to any of them since that day.</p><p>Maybe Berwald thought that ignoring them would somehow just make all of this not true. Like Magnus when he refused to say goodbye, maybe Berwald thought saying anything aloud would make it real and so he stayed silent instead.</p><p>But, oh, the first time that Ludwig had seen Berwald in that wheelchair, as the nurses took him down the hall—had run right back out like a coward, down the street, found an isolated spot, and cried himself sick. Shoulda been able to hold it together, because he wasn't the one hurt, and yet somehow seeing Berwald like that was so much worse than if it had been himself. Should have been stronger. If it had been the other way around, Berwald wouldn't have left his side for a minute, even if Ludwig had sent him away.</p><p>With that in mind, Ludwig began to stubbornly sit there in that room with Berwald, even as Berwald pretended he didn't exist. That could only go on for so long, but Berwald was angrier and angrier with each passing day, as he was weaned slowly off of the morphine.</p><p>It must have been close for them to setting Berwald loose, because the nurses were suddenly walking Timo over everything they needed to do, showed them how to change the bandages, gave Timo a long lecture that Ludwig was almost glad he couldn't understand. The entire while, Berwald closed his eyes and refused to look at them.</p><p>Timo looked tired.</p><p>Five weeks after that shelling, the field hospital sent Berwald out on his own, just like they had sent Ludwig, far too soon and with a pat of good luck and a cane. Timo wheeled him out, Ludwig helped to put him in the car, and the drive back was very, painfully silent.</p><p>The cane was in the trunk, untouched and seeming so ominous in some way. The wheelchair rode behind in the other car. The wheelchair wasn't as bad in some way to Ludwig, because the wheelchair was temporary. The cane wasn't.</p><p>Berwald seemed to detest them equally, and that first day back home was one of the worse of Ludwig's life, getting out of that car and looking around and realizing how helpless they really were. Unprepared for anything. Stupid. No way to get the wheelchair in the house with Berwald in it, so Timo and Ludwig had to pick him up under the arms and carry him inside, as Berwald tried to murder the floor with his eyes and didn't say a word.</p><p>Didn't speak at all, and it was so quiet and awkward in the house, as it had been after Ludwig had been stupid and gotten himself shot. Worse in a way, though, so much drearier, because Ludwig had gotten better. Berwald wasn't really going to, not all the way.</p><p>Timo looked around at them, opened his mouth, and fell silent.</p><p>Everyone looked lost. It was different this time. A member down, permanently. When the Soviets had split with the Germans, when everyone had suddenly stood on opposite sides, Berwald had said, 'We stay together or we all go home.'</p><p>Did that still hold true now? Now that Berwald could no longer fight, did they all just go home? Give up? Did they split up now, after so long, because Berwald was no longer able to keep up with them?</p><p>Hated the thought.</p><p>He had always envisioned them together.</p><p>Ludwig sat on the sofa, Magnus' arm ever over his shoulder, as Berwald lied in bed and silently seethed. Timo and Lukas actually put aside their animosity, that one time, and the next time Ludwig saw them they were outside, gathering together planks of wood. Didn't take him long to realize they were making a ramp.</p><p>That <em>hurt</em>, goddamn. Something so simple, but seeing that really stung, hit home, because it was something Ludwig would have to look at every day and remember. But, hell...why even bother? From the look of him now, Berwald sure as hell wasn't going to want to go outside. Didn't move at all, because it hurt too much. Maybe Timo wasn't planning on giving him a choice.</p><p>Ludwig followed Timo into town shortly after, and they managed to procure new glasses for Berwald. Just temporary ones, until Berwald could get into town to get correct lenses. Just something that would keep him from bumping into the walls.</p><p>Oh...</p><p>A pang.</p><p>Wouldn't bump into anything for a while. Couldn't walk yet, and wouldn't for a long time. Right.</p><p>Night fell, and it was time to change those bandages.</p><p>Ludwig felt it was his duty, naturally, because Berwald was his, but Timo took charge as always, and said to Ludwig, "I'll do it, for a few days. You just watch and learn, alright? This isn't my first time doing this kinda stuff. Come on."</p><p>Timo was brave, always had been, and Ludwig followed him and hung back in the corner.</p><p>Timo leaned down over silent Berwald, and began uttering away to him in Swedish, his voice very stiff and strict. Sounded as if Timo were chastising Berwald, perhaps for his foul attitude, and Ludwig was happy not to know.</p><p>Berwald ignored Timo very easily, and Ludwig just paid attention.</p><p>Berwald's wounds weren't horrific anymore, at a glance. Not as much blood, very little actually, but the skin was healing very slowly, and the gashes that couldn't be stitched up looked very raw and painful. Berwald's legs looked quite like those of a zebra, for how striped they were with wounds. The unmistakable pattern of shrapnel. Berwald's right leg was so bad that it was nearly entirely scarred on the outer side, from ankle to thigh. An awful, huge suture above the knee, actually a bit dented in, from how much flesh and muscle they had had to remove. How that leg had been saved seemed quite the feat indeed. A bit of luck. Or maybe not, given that that leg was where Berwald's pain seemed to be coming from.</p><p>...it was <em>his </em>fault. He had tried to volunteer to go with Timo. If Ludwig had never opened his stupid mouth, Berwald would have stayed silent. Timo would have gone alone, would have been perfectly fine, and would have been back by now, victorious, as the Finnish and German defenses had held in the end.</p><p>Again, for the hundredth time, Ludwig caused nothing but trouble.</p><p>Berwald getting hurt was his fault.</p><p>Timo was as gentle as he could be, ever murmuring away, and Berwald clenched his teeth and inhaled very quickly through his nose, eyes squinted and sweating.</p><p>Wished, above all else, that the hospital had at least given them some pain medication, something, anything, just a little. It was selfish of him, he knew, with so many men wounded, but to be quite frank Berwald meant a hell of a lot more to him than some stranger, and Ludwig would rather have had that medication for himself.</p><p>He was awful, he really was.</p><p>Timo finished up, took his leave, and Ludwig glanced over to the wheelchair in the corner. Hated it, but hated more that cane lurking in the shadows against the wall. Dreading it.</p><p>Ludwig finally approached Berwald, and whispered, "I...I got you some new glasses. Guy in town made you some. Just for now, you know. Better than nothing, until we can get you fixed up."</p><p>Berwald scoffed, turned his head aside, and said nothing.</p><p>Fixed up—maybe he shouldn't have said that, exactly.</p><p>He set the glasses on the end-table, and then he tried his best to be calm and brave and turned the light off, crawling into bed very carefully. Didn't want to move anymore than necessary, and some part of him was scared that Berwald would finally speak to him, but only to shoo him out of bed entirely.</p><p>Didn't say a word, in the end.</p><p>Night was awful.</p><p>Once his favorite time, getting to lie next to Berwald and know they were both safe for the next few hours, and now night was <em>miserable</em>. Berwald writhed and shifted, squirmed, breathing and hissing through his teeth, sweating, and it was obvious that he was in terrible pain.</p><p>Ludwig was on the verge of tears, because there was nothing he could do. No way to help. Had nothing to give Berwald, nothing at all, and couldn't stand it. Worse was when he reached out to place his hand in Berwald's hair in an effort to comfort him, only for Berwald to jerk away.</p><p>That hurt.</p><p>Knew that Berwald was going through a very incomprehensible mix of emotions, and he was trying to be patient as he always was, but being constantly rejected was painful all the same.</p><p>Ludwig was stubborn, and after the third try of touching Berwald, Berwald finally gave up and fell still under his hand, but that may have only been because moving at all hurt him and swatting Ludwig away wasn't worth the pain the motion caused.</p><p>Ludwig couldn't help but wonder if maybe it would have been better if Berwald's right leg had been amputated. Maybe then he wouldn't have been in this constant pain. Maybe it would have been better to lose it than to have it mangled. Only time would really tell.</p><p>Just wanted to wake up and somehow be back in those happier mornings.</p><p>Berwald had been laughing and smiling.</p><p>How unfair.</p><p>Berwald didn't sleep. Couldn't; the pain was too great, and Ludwig woke up at some point in the night to Berwald clenching his jaw and quietly crying.</p><p>Had never known anything could hurt this badly.</p><p>In the morning, Ludwig stared at Berwald, feeling drained and exhausted, and didn't move at all until Timo came again. Timo tried his best to do what the nurses had told him to, and braved Berwald's wrath by hunkering down and forcing Berwald's legs into flexes. Berwald rested his arm above his eyes, and Ludwig could have sworn that, for just a moment, Timo had blinked very quickly.</p><p>They banded together afterwards to get Berwald out of bed and into the wheelchair, but no matter how hard Ludwig tried, Berwald wouldn't eat. Just sat there and stared off out of the window, his incorrect glasses halfway down his nose.</p><p>Lukas tried his hand at coaxing Berwald to eat, with that silver tongue of his, but was equally unsuccessful.</p><p>Ludwig cried into Magnus' shirt shortly after when they were alone.</p><p>Berwald didn't talk.</p><p>He just sat there and <em>stared</em>. Always.</p><p>Sometimes, when he thought no one was around, Berwald squinted his eyes, ducked his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose in what was obviously an attempt to keep from bursting into tears right there. Whether it was from pain or anger or frustration, no one could have ever known. All three, likely.</p><p>Berwald was slipping again, down that cliff, but this time it wasn't catatonic like the last—this time, it was just <em>angry</em>. Berwald wasn't going quietly, and every day Ludwig just see that rage building up under the surface. Frustration.</p><p>What could he do about it?</p><p>He was trying everything he could think of, and Berwald responded to nothing.</p><p>Timo was the only one that could get him to eat, and that was only because Timo was <em>mean </em>and aggressive and shoved it down Berwald's throat if Berwald didn't cooperate.</p><p>They forced Berwald up onto his feet every day to walk him about a bit, as instructed, but aside from that he wouldn't move. Maybe Berwald was trying to delay the inevitable use of that cane, always looming in the corner.</p><p>Ludwig stood before Berwald one night, and said, 'I told you that I'd follow you anywhere. But I can't do that if you won't <em>move</em>.'</p><p>Berwald ignored him.</p><p>The days kept on passing, and Berwald just kept on sinking. Wouldn't talk. Glaring holes at everything before him. Ludwig didn't really know what to <em>do</em>. No matter how hard he tried, Berwald wouldn't look at him.</p><p>Listing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Oh, What a Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 26</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Oh, What a Dream</strong>
</p><p>They sat together on the grass above the lake, all five of them.</p><p>Fireflies in the trees. Stars all over. A warm breeze, the scent of summer and water. Grass and trees. White clouds, rolling every so often in front of the full moon. Gentle waves, as the town lights rippled upon the surface of the water. The mighty forest swaying to and fro in the wind.</p><p>Lukas sat cross-legged in the center, hands in his lap and smiling away at the water, calm and quiet and very lost off in his dreamland. On either side of him sat Ludwig and Magnus. Magnus' knees were pulled up, and against his shoulder reposed Timo, as they murmured to each other and smiled and Magnus swept his hand over the lake in the distance, as if gesturing to Timo what their world would look like soon when peace came.</p><p>In Ludwig's lap rested Berwald's head, one hand in Berwald's hair and the other on his shoulder. Berwald was smiling, lying on his side and watching the trees blinking with fireflies. Ludwig leaned down to whisper to him, as they planned their future. The look of contentment on Berwald's face. Quiet calm.</p><p>Happiness.</p><p>Ludwig saw them all in that moment as a chain, linked together by forces beyond their control. Whatever the war put them through, at the end of the day they always came back together.</p><p>They sat out there, all of them together, until the pink light of dawn began to break over the green forest.</p><p>That was the dream Ludwig had had the night before Berwald finally spoke the first words to him since then. They had been home for two weeks. Two entire weeks of silence, before Berwald at last lifted his head, looked over at Ludwig, and opened his mouth.</p><p>What he said didn't match at all with that beautiful dream.</p><p>"Why haven't ya left yet?"</p><p>It was the first day as well that Berwald had been given the all-clear by the town doctor to get out of the wheelchair and start using the cane. For that, Berwald sat on the edge of the bed and had been very still, glaring at the cane. No choice in the matter, because Timo, that master of tough love, had taken the wheelchair out of the house and stashed it god knew where. Berwald had no choice but to start walking with that cane, and he looked as if he wanted to set fire to the world for it.</p><p>So Ludwig had been very shocked, naturally, to hear his voice at all after over a month.</p><p>The words didn't sink through, because he was so caught off guard. Immediately, he had come over and sat down beside Berwald, wanting to grab his hand but scared to.</p><p>Berwald stared out of the window, having procured correct lenses by then thanks to Timo's ruthlessness, and he didn't look over.</p><p>To prod him into speaking more, Ludwig tried, "How are you feeling? Do you wanna try walking with me?"</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Berwald didn't speak again that day, and Ludwig eventually retreated.</p><p>They sat together at the kitchen table that night, silent and morose. The air was tense, awkward, strained. The wind outside was quite strong, and occasionally rattled the windows. Ludwig stared into his cold coffee, and it was Magnus who suddenly exhaled very heavily, sat up straight, and put his hands upon the table.</p><p>They looked at him, and Ludwig was quite shocked when Magnus said, in a voice that shook, "I'm done. I'm not fighting anymore. I quit."</p><p>An awful rush of adrenaline, a surge of panic, fear. Hurt. Magnus was his best friend; didn't want him to leave.</p><p>Ludwig glanced at Timo, who was staring Magnus down quite frighteningly. It was funny, really, that Timo's soft, pretty brown eyes could be so intense when war came about. Had never seen such friendly eyes that could turn into a razor.</p><p>Magnus looked only at Ludwig then, because surely he was terrified to look at Timo or Lukas, both of whom relied on him though in very different ways. Each man here had their uses and strengths, and although Magnus and Ludwig had often proclaimed they weren't good for anything, that wasn't exactly true. Magnus held his place here just as much as anyone else, terrible aim or no, and his absence would be a loss, if only for Lukas.</p><p>Timo surprisingly didn't start screaming. Just sat quietly still, although his grimace and lidded eyes were painfully derisive.</p><p>Ludwig glanced then at Lukas, but got nothing from him. As always, Lukas was entirely blank, staring off into nothing as he always did.</p><p>At the silence, Magnus looked down at the table, heavy lashes covering his eyes, and he added, in a whisper, "We promised to stay together. If <em>he</em> can't fight anymore, then I won't either."</p><p>Ludwig felt a twinge of hope, maybe, a little relief. Maybe Magnus had no intentions of leaving them, of going back to Denmark. Maybe Magnus was going to stay put, would remain here, but wouldn't fight out of silent respect for Berwald.</p><p>Timo may not have accepted that, and all Ludwig could do was wait.</p><p>Minutes ticked by, no one made eye contact, and then Timo finally said, softly, "If you don't want to fight, you don't have to. I'll...find you something to do, in town. If you stay."</p><p>Magnus' head snapped up, and it was so easy to see on Magnus' expressive face the utter relief he felt at not being immediately eviscerated and thrown out by Timo. Ludwig knew that Magnus had gotten off so easily because Magnus didn't fight on the same side as Timo, and one less man on that side was, in the end, a win for Timo. That, and maybe Timo was relieved at some level that Magnus would no longer be in danger.</p><p>Ludwig, feeling that he had already caused enough damage by being impulsive and brash, grasped onto Magnus' sudden boldness and said, at long last, "I'm done too, Timo. I'm staying with him. I won't fight anymore."</p><p>Ludwig braced himself, but for naught in that end, because Timo hardly looked surprised, and indeed the first thing Timo said was, "Yeah. I had figured as much."</p><p>Had been fairly obvious, he supposed. With Berwald permanently impaired, Ludwig had never had any intentions of ever going back out. His war was finished, after so many years. Sure as hell didn't miss it.</p><p>It was Lukas and Timo then who met each other's eyes. The two most stubborn, the most passionate, the most volatile. Neither of them seemed to have any desire to stop, and neither of them said another word for the rest of the night.</p><p>Ludwig took their silence as, 'I'm still fighting.'</p><p>Let them.</p><p>His worries then were only on Berwald.</p><p>In a rut, still.</p><p>It had been days now, and Berwald still wouldn't touch the cane.</p><p>The crinkle of pain in his brow never lifted. Always angry, because he was in terrible pain. Lashed out at everyone and everything, but mostly Ludwig.</p><p>God help him, Ludwig wanted to punch Berwald in the face more than anything, and everyone else did, too, but he just couldn't bring himself to snap at Berwald the way Berwald probably needed him to. Couldn't do it, because Berwald was mourning the loss of his mobility, of his usefulness in a sense. Hard to stay angry at him, thinking about how he must have felt. So young, and put out of commission. Always, always in pain.</p><p>That said...</p><p>Ludwig was being patient, yes, but every day found himself more and more agitated by Berwald's inability to put forth effort. By his moping and bitterness. Knew that Berwald must have felt useless and vulnerable and was reacting defensively, but it was wearing on everyone all the same.</p><p>Berwald was being very stubborn, and this time that wasn't a good thing.</p><p>Ludwig walked into the bedroom one afternoon, and saw Berwald down in the corner between the bed and the dresser, tangled in sheets and breathing through his mouth, face red. Sweating. The cane was up against the dresser, within reach and yet still in place. That awful look of pain on his face.</p><p>Stubborn.</p><p>The dumb son of a bitch kept tryin' to walk on his own, and wound up on the floor in a heap instead.</p><p>Ludwig came towards him, but stopped short when Berwald held a hand out in the air, an invisible warning, and then he shook his head, curled his lip, and grunted, "Get out. Go away."</p><p>Berwald spoke again at last, and just to say <em>that</em>? Was that all he really had to say?</p><p>Ludwig stood there, feeling his brow crinkle without really meaning for it to, and then he squared his shoulders and backed off. The worst side of him was content to let Berwald flounder on the floor until he learned his fuckin' lesson. Let him crawl around and try to keep standing until he was forced to grab the cane.</p><p>Bitterness was exhausting. Too hard for him to keep up. So he went back, an hour or so later, and poked his head in. Berwald had pulled himself back up onto the edge of the bed, and was glowering away at nothing.</p><p>Ludwig leaned in the frame and asked, as gently as he could, "Hungry?"</p><p>He knew the answer already, even if Berwald refused to look at him or speak.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"I'm not bringing it in here," he said, as Berwald continued to smolder, "so you're gonna haveta get up. Sooner or later. Can't sit in here forever, you know."</p><p>He couldn't say that he enjoyed speaking to Berwald like a little kid, but that was close to how he was acting.</p><p>Berwald wasn't keen, either, and this time he raised his voice, and cried, "<em>Out</em>! Get out!"</p><p>A rush of fury, rage, once more forcefully stifled. Ludwig clamped his jaw shut, whirled on his heel, and stalked out, slamming the door behind him as he went.</p><p>That bastard—</p><p>Magnus grabbed his arm as he meant to barge outside, and forced him still.</p><p>"You alright?"</p><p>Fury faded. Exhaustion crept in. Sadness.</p><p>"Yeah," he finally replied, as he slumped. "I'm fine."</p><p>Magnus stood very patiently still, because Magnus had gotten used to being used as a crying towel these past months and was likely waiting for the newest occurrence. Didn't even have the energy to cry that time, and merely watched as Timo, having heard Berwald's scream no doubt, suddenly stalked into the bedroom as angrily as Ludwig had stalked out. Was about to lay into Berwald good, and Ludwig didn't really want to hear it, even if he couldn't understand.</p><p>Magnus saw, as always, and walked him out the backdoor and onto the hill.</p><p>They sat on the grass, and although the scenery was beautiful, it felt nothing at all like that wonderful, comforting dream Ludwig had had. They weren't all together then, and Berwald wasn't smiling. No more planning, no more looking forward to the future, because Berwald was stuck in place.</p><p>Magnus rested his hand on Ludwig's back, as they watched the sun rippling off of the lake. A long, heavy silence, and then Magnus said, softly, "It'll be alright. It'll just...take a while, ya know. You'll see. Everything will be alright. Hell, we're all alive still. We're pretty lucky, I guess."</p><p>Ludwig rested his head on Magnus' shoulder.</p><p>They were lucky, exceptionally. Berwald was the only one who didn't see it.</p><p>After a long while, Ludwig asked, anxiously, "You're not going to leave, are you? Yet?"</p><p>Magnus snorted.</p><p>"Nah. I ain't goin' anywhere. Where would I go, anyway? Back home? Not now. I'll stay with you guys, until the war is over. I'd like for us all to stay together after, too, but I guess it will depend on how it all ends, huh? I worry..."</p><p>Magnus trailed off, and Ludwig knew that what Magnus was worried about was Timo. If the Reds won, if Finland surrendered, if Finland were annexed, Timo's fury would know no ends. Would Timo have fought, even after the war ended?</p><p>So hard to say.</p><p>Magnus suddenly murmured, mournfully, "Sometimes, Ludde, I think maybe we should have fallen in love with different people."</p><p>"Me too," Ludwig replied.</p><p>It was too late. They were in love, and there was no turning back. Magnus wouldn't have let go of Timo any more than Ludwig was willing to let go of Berwald, and their battles were entirely uphill and very unfairly balanced. They trudged on all the same, because that was all a man could ever really do.</p><p>Love was really the only thing worth fighting for, at the end of the day.</p><p>Ludwig wouldn't give up on Berwald, however hard Berwald made it.</p><p>When the sun went down, Ludwig reluctantly went back into the bedroom, where Berwald yet sat, head hanging and looking so rough and tired. Needed a shave and a haircut in a bad way, but Ludwig couldn't get near him. The bandages were off now, and Ludwig's eyes trailed down over those awful scars.</p><p>To test Berwald a bit, to see how far he could press him, Ludwig suddenly sat down beside of him and said, far too cheerily, "Well. We all tried really hard, but it looks like you're gonna win the battle of who has the best scars to show off."</p><p>He braced himself instantly, just in case Berwald twisted at the waist and punched him in the face.</p><p>He didn't.</p><p>Just sat there, like always, and sulked.</p><p>Once more, Ludwig asked, "Do you want to come walking with me?"</p><p>That time, Berwald scoffed, and spoke up a bit.</p><p>"You're the only one walkin'. You gonna drag me around for the rest'a my life? You really plan on bein' with me and havin' me walkin' like this forever?"</p><p>Even through the low voice Ludwig could hear the anger and frustration. The hurt.</p><p>It <em>hurt</em>, to see that awful shadow of depression on Berwald's face. That look of despondency and misery and helplessness. To see Berwald hanging there on the edge.</p><p>But it hurt him, too, it fuckin' did, and maybe Ludwig was just as angry when he spat, too loudly, "I'm just glad you're walkin' at <em>all</em>!"</p><p>It could have been worse, could have been so much worse, and yet still Berwald didn't seem to understand that. Didn't seem to understand how lucky he was to still be able to stand up and move around. That he was still alive. Berwald wasn't the only one having a hard time.</p><p>Berwald's voice was ever lower, rougher, harsher, when he suddenly uttered, with obvious intent to wound, "You don't haveta pity me just 'cause it's your fault I was there. I didn't ask ya to."</p><p>Oh—</p><p>An awful wave of hurt, guilt, shame, and Berwald had to have known how much those words would hurt. Already carried so much guilt, knowing that it was his fault, because it had been his idea to go with Timo. Those words. The painful sting of his eyes, the hitch of his breath, and Ludwig was the one to react defensively then, bolting upright and saying, far too thickly, "You brought me here to fight! That's the only reason you ever wanted me here in the first place. So I fought. You didn't have to say anything."</p><p>Berwald only gave a great, bitter scoff, and bowed his head. They would have fought then, perhaps, if Berwald had said one more word, just one more word, because Ludwig was already fuming and agitated and ready to fly off the handle. Thankfully for the both of them, Berwald kept his mouth shut, then, and didn't speak again.</p><p>Berwald was in pain and took it out on Ludwig, and Ludwig's patience was wearing thin.</p><p>That night, as Berwald sweated and panted and writhed in agony, Ludwig stood up and went into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch instead. Was at his wit's end, he really was, didn't know what to do and feeling helpless was the worst possible emotion.</p><p>His fault.</p><p>Ludwig's mind whirred away the entire night, as Berwald suffered.</p><p>Dawn broke.</p><p>Ludwig left the house, without telling the others, and set out into the town below. Aggravated as he was, couldn't really stand anyone going with him. Not where he was going. He trudged along, looking like hell, and went to the little field hospital that he had become far too familiar with. When he stepped onto the premises, his courage faltered for a moment, just a moment. Didn't really want to be back here.</p><p>But Berwald was in constant pain, and Ludwig was selfish, so he lifted his chin and plunged inside.</p><p>The smell of medicine. Blood. Whispers and grunts of pain. That awful scenery. The dread and anxiety that only a hospital could ever really bring upon someone. That shudder.</p><p>He didn't really realize when his shoulders slumped, and maybe he looked lost and a bit frightened, out of place and feeling guilty about being healthy in the face of these injured men, for one of the Finns came up to him and startin' talking. Didn't understand a word, but met his eyes all the same. After a while, the Finn seemed to realize he wasn't being understood, and switched to Swedish.</p><p>Nope.</p><p>Ludwig somehow found his voice to ask, wearily, "German?"</p><p>The Finn shook his head, but waved his hand, as if telling Ludwig to follow. He did. He was led to a man, a doctor from the look of him, but not the doctor he was familiar with.</p><p>The Finn looked him up and down, almost smiled, and was quick to surmise, "You're Timo's German, aren't ya?"</p><p>A nod.</p><p>"What brings you here? I heard about you. You're lucky to be alive. Your wound acting up?"</p><p>"No," Ludwig replied, too quickly, averting his eyes from the wounded men in the hall. "It's not me. It's—"</p><p>"The other guy," the Finn interrupted, knowingly. "Need someone to come up and take a look at him?"</p><p>Feeling so stupid and ridiculous, Ludwig shook his head.</p><p>The Finn lifted his brow and seemed perplexed.</p><p>"So. What do you need?"</p><p>Ludwig looked around the hall, trying to be brave, and felt suddenly rather nauseous. Oh, god, those men there. Seeing those rebels coming back like this. Men less lucky than they were. The Finn saw Ludwig's wandering gaze, and offered short explanations for certain injuries, whether Ludwig wanted to hear it or not. Wheelchairs. Crutches. Men hauling their IVs with them. Men without legs. Arms. Men burnt up. Stitched back together. Awful scars.</p><p>He felt like shit, and the matter-of-fact voice the Finn used didn't help any. Just so casual. Used to seeing all these terrible things.</p><p>So desperate to leave suddenly, Ludwig finally said, "It's just... He's in so much pain. Do you have anything I can give him, for now? Whatever you have."</p><p>The Finn was patient with him, but not exactly kind.</p><p>"Nothing will fix that, you know? He's gonna be in pain for the rest of his life. It will get better before long. It won't ever go away, but it will get better. He's just gonna haveta bear with it."</p><p>"I know," Ludwig muttered, feeling suddenly irritable. "Isn't there anything I can give him? Just for now? Until he's healed up all the way?"</p><p>This time, the Finn turned to him all the way, and his voice was stern when he spoke again.</p><p>"I got guys here that stepped on mines. Yeah, I got stuff, but not a lot. We're stretched as far as we can go. Don't you think I should save it for the guys that come in missin' something? I'm gonna say it hurts a hell of a lot more when we have to put them on the table and cut something off. He should be grateful he still has his fuckin' leg."</p><p>Ludwig burned red, and swallowed. Shame, more than anything. Felt stupid for even asking. Embarrassed.</p><p>He had only come here because of that awful guilt he harbored. Berwald's words. It was Ludwig's fault, and for that Ludwig was here begging, because his conscience was killing him. If he had kept his fuckin' mouth shut, they all would have been fine. That was the only reason he was here, to make himself feel better, perhaps, more than Berwald.</p><p>Stupid.</p><p>So he nodded, then, and turned around, fully ready to walk out of there in defeated humiliation.</p><p>At the last minute, a sigh.</p><p>"Here, here, wait."</p><p>Ludwig stopped, as the Finn came up behind him and extended a hand. A small glass vial, with tiny pills inside.</p><p>"Here. This is all I have for you, though. When it runs out, I can't give him any more. So only use it when it's really bad."</p><p>The bottle was placed in his hand, his fingers were forced closed, and Ludwig glanced up at the Finn long enough to ask, "Does it hurt? Afterwards, I mean."</p><p>He had turned his eyes to a rebel in the hall, with one leg.</p><p>The Finn gave an odd, half-smile.</p><p>"Some of them say it does. Most of them say it doesn't. A lot of them say they can still feel it, though, even after it's gone. Isn't that weird? The doctors in the big hospitals call it phantom limb or some such. I don't care about that, as long as it's not hurtin' 'em."</p><p>Ludwig was relieved, because he couldn't have taken that bottle at all if the Finn had just said, 'Yeah.'</p><p>Tucking the vial into his breast pocket, he tried his best to force a smile, and said, "Thank you."</p><p>"Sure. Tell him to work with what he's got."</p><p>Oh, more than that. In that place, seeing those men, he had long lost his patience with moping Berwald. And he knew, as he left, that the Finn had only given him those pills in the first place because he was Timo's German. Anyone else would have been snubbed and given the harsh reality of life.</p><p>Berwald was lucky. So fuckin' <em>lucky</em>. Why couldn't he see it?</p><p>Ludwig realized, taking those pills, that his guilt was not assuaged at all—he just felt worse, and he was about to go give Berwald hell for it.</p><p>Every step up the drive he took, the more and more agitated he felt.</p><p>The sun had barely risen, hanging low and bright over the horizon. Ludwig made as little noise as possible, because he was ashamed he had even gone to that hospital at all and didn't want anyone to see him coming in. They were all asleep still, and Ludwig took the vial out, clenched it in his hand, took a breath for courage, and then marched.</p><p>When he walked into the bedroom, however, his anger almost vanished.</p><p>The way Berwald sat up like lightning, inhaling, the way his eyes were wide, the way his mouth was open and no voice came out. The way he stared at Ludwig, as if terrified and relieved at the same time. That startled look. Berwald's brow crinkled, his breathing was quite fast, palms holding his weight up, and he stared at Ludwig quite as if Ludwig had come back from the dead once more.</p><p>That look.</p><p>Almost as if Berwald had thought, somehow, that Ludwig wasn't coming back.</p><p>Oh; Ludwig had crept out of the bedroom in the middle of the night, and maybe Berwald thought that Ludwig had up and left again. Berwald was being so difficult, and likely he had assumed that Ludwig's patience with him had ended and Ludwig had just decided to leave for good, because Berwald considered himself useless now.</p><p>Berwald's forehead wad glistening with sweat, the pain always there on his face.</p><p>A twinge of hurt, quickly cast aside when he remembered the pills in his hand.</p><p>Berwald just sat there and stared at him, and it took Ludwig a long time to finally open his mouth and speak. Almost lost his will, seeing Berwald looking at him like that when there had been only anger, but Berwald still wasn't moving.</p><p>Had to be done.</p><p>"Well. I went out, looking for something to give you, since you won't get up. I thought I could find somethin' that would make it stop hurting enough for you to at least try walkin' around. Something to make you feel better."</p><p>He stopped, swallowed, and reminded himself that Berwald needed this kick in the ass. Needed this anger. This impatience.</p><p>"So, I went down to town. I went out to the hospital. I asked around, trying to find you something. Some kind of medicine that might make it better. I felt stupid, goin' there. I felt so fuckin' <em>stupid</em>. Walkin' in there, and seeing all those guys. There was a kid in there, guess he was my age, without any damn legs—got run over by a Red tank. Can you believe that? Ran him over. One guy tripped and fell on a mine. Maybe it was one of ours, you know? Could have been. Lost his arm."</p><p>Berwald lowered his eyes, brow furrowed now with more than the pain from his leg, and Ludwig felt his own hands shaking a little.</p><p>Hated it, talking to Berwald like that.</p><p>He <em>had </em>to get over it, and go on. There wasn't any going back.</p><p>Ludwig gave a soft scoff, then, and said, "I saw one guy with no leg and no arm. How do you like that? But I asked anyway. I felt stupid, but I asked. And they gave me some pills for you, even though they don't have that many left. He gave me some, because I told him that your leg hurts. I took 'em. I felt like shit, you know, takin' 'em after seeing all those guys, but I took 'em anyway, because..."</p><p>He trailed off, as Berwald glared holes into the blanket, and when Ludwig sucked in a breath and found his words, he realized his voice was shaking as much as his hands.</p><p>"I took 'em because I—I hate seein' you in pain. I think I did for me, and now I feel like shit. I took them away from guys that really need 'em, just because I want <em>you </em>to feel better. I'm selfish, I guess, because I care more about you than I do some guy I don't know who got run over by a tank. Because I'm a... I'm a brat, I guess. Used to gettin' want I want. So."</p><p>Felt kinda sick.</p><p>Berwald wouldn't look at him.</p><p>"So, here!" he finished, setting the glass vial rather forcefully down on the dresser. "Here. This is what I got ya. If you want it, here it is. You'll have to get up if you want it. Shouldn't be too hard, right? You've still got a leg to walk on. I'm sorry that I took you down there. I'm <em>sorry</em>. I feel like shit about it. I know this is my fault, so that's why I got you something. If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have gotten hurt, and I'm sorry about that. But I can't change it. I don't want this to be what ruins us, when we've done so much. It's my fault, but it's not fair for you to keep takin' it out on me, because I was just trying to do my job. You're alive. You can <em>walk</em>, Berwald. If you try. Be grateful for that."</p><p>Was about to throw up, so he whirled out and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.</p><p>Threw himself down at the kitchen table, buried his face in his hands, and exhaled, trying to soothe his jittery nerves. Damn, felt so bad sayin' all of that, but Berwald should have felt bad about sitting there and moping when other men out there were dead.</p><p>As often, all Ludwig could do was wait.</p><hr/><p>Sometimes, it was easy to lose sight of how vast the world actually was. They had been together for so long, just the five of them, that it seemed as if they had just created their own little universe. Their own world. Other people didn't matter, because they had learned to only focus on and care about each other.</p><p>Berwald often forgot that there were other people out there.</p><p>He lived in his own world, and it so often crumbled. Everyone was selfish and self-centered, everyone, no matter how hard they may have denied it. At some level, when it all came down to the wire, a man only cared about himself.</p><p>Berwald lost sight of other men, because he felt as if life had ended.</p><p>He was no stranger to pain, never had been. Had raised so much hell in his youth, had gotten himself into such awful situations, had endured pain that sometimes had been so strong he couldn't even think without hurting. Was just used to it going away, after a while. The perpetual, unending ache was maddening. The pain was awful, shooting, sharp, relentless. The pain was unbearable. Insufferable. Couldn't sleep from that nearly electric stabbing.</p><p>But that pain wasn't what was making Berwald so <em>miserable</em>.</p><p>It was terror.</p><p>That unspeakable fear smothering him, that Ludwig was going to leave him.</p><p>Long hours after Ludwig had given him a what for, he came back. A tap on the door, a creak, and Ludwig peered in, so quietly, as Berwald sat on the edge of the bed as always and stared off at nothing.</p><p>Ludwig was quietly observing. Trying to see if Berwald had taken one of the pills, perhaps.</p><p>No.</p><p>Ludwig looked exhausted, looked about as miserable as Berwald felt, and finally asked, softly, "Won't you come eat?"</p><p>Didn't feel like it.</p><p>"Leave me alone, won't ya?" Berwald finally grumbled, too ashamed to even look at Ludwig, let alone to try to get up and crawl into the kitchen.</p><p>Finally, a gentle whisper.</p><p>"Alright."</p><p>Ludwig had exhausted all of his anger, perhaps, throwing those pills down, and now was just muted and placid. He retreated, shut the door behind him, and Berwald was once more left alone to fret.</p><p>Hours passed.</p><p>Loneliness. Lethargy. Exhaustion and frustration. That same old pattern. That same fear.</p><p>It wasn't the pain that Berwald was lashing out over.</p><p>Ludwig was going to leave him.</p><p>Long had Berwald known that he was overshadowed by these other men. He always had been, from the very first day. He had called himself leader, but never truly had been. They had humored him, and Berwald had always known that, sooner or later, they would all leave him behind.</p><p>His greatest fear was of them just seeing him as 'that old guy'.</p><p>Being surrounded by rowdy, energetic, boisterous men had been intimidating to him. Ludwig in particular. Ludwig was ten years younger than he was, the kid of the group after all, and Ludwig had already seen Berwald be deposed as leader. Now Ludwig was seeing him put entirely out of commission, unable to fight, unable to keep up.</p><p>He really was an old man, now.</p><p>That cane loomed.</p><p>His worst fear. That he was hardly more than damaged goods. That Ludwig, strong and young and virile, would get bored with him and cast him aside now that he couldn't keep up with the others. That Ludwig would seek out someone stronger. Someone younger. Someone faster and more worthy of his attention. Someone more charming and more handsome.</p><p>Not like Berwald could have chased after Ludwig now, had Ludwig left. Was entirely at Ludwig's mercy now, he truly was, being no longer able to corral him again should Ludwig attempt to leave them behind.</p><p>When Ludwig was gone, the world stopped.</p><p>So Berwald sat here now, waiting. The pain was nothing, nothing at all, compared to that devastation that came over him at night when he looked over at sleeping Ludwig and knew before long he would look over and see empty space. Ludwig would leave, because Berwald no longer had use or worth. Couldn't keep up or go out, and if he couldn't go out then he couldn't be so sure Ludwig would come back.</p><p>That mist always loomed.</p><p>Those awful days, lost up in his head, in the dark. A black forest, with no lights. Only trees, endless all around, shrouded in fog. No way out. However long he walked, there was never any end. Just lost there in himself.</p><p>When Ludwig was gone, Berwald couldn't find his way back into the world.</p><p>Didn't even remember that day he had grabbed the gun, he didn't. Hadn't been a conscious decision. Didn't know how he had even gotten outside to begin with. Hadn't realized the barrel was against his temple. Just knew that he was lost in the woods, and Ludwig was never coming back. Could only see Ludwig up in his head, alone and scared in the cold black sea.</p><p>Hadn't realized where he was and what he was doing until Magnus had been on top him, straddling him and screaming at him. Hadn't heard the words. Didn't know what Magnus had said or why he was so angry. Why Magnus had slapped him.</p><p>Hadn't cared.</p><p>But Ludwig kept coming back, again and again, and Berwald had relied more and more upon him each time because he knew now what loomed when Ludwig wasn't there.</p><p>That dark.</p><p>Now, Berwald stood once more before that great black forest, the mists creeping in, and knew that if Ludwig up and left he would once more plunge in amidst the trees. Didn't want that. Now, it was Berwald who was lost and alone in the sea, with no land in sight.</p><p>Ludwig would leave him, because who wouldn't? What young man wanted a partner that couldn't keep up with him?</p><p>A knock on the door. Once more, Ludwig loomed there, peering in.</p><p>A question.</p><p>"How are you feeling?"</p><p>Probing once more, to see if Berwald had taken the medicine. Didn't want those pills. Didn't want Ludwig's pity. Just wanted Ludwig to stay with him, in spite of it all. Wanted Ludwig to find some reason why Berwald might have been worth hanging in there for, and knowing in his heart that there was none. Maybe he lashed out so at Ludwig now to force him to leave, because maybe it would hurt just a little bit less if he ran Ludwig off than it would be if Ludwig left him.</p><p>Ludwig came inside, looked Berwald up and down, and Berwald turned his eyes to the window.</p><p>"What do you want?"</p><p>Not the friendliest way he had ever greeted Ludwig.</p><p>Ludwig hesitated for a second, staring down at Berwald in a serene manner that only made Berwald more damn irritable, and then he came forward and sat himself down on the edge of the bed. Berwald took the coward's way out, staring blankly at the window, very much unable to raise his eyes up to Ludwig. How could he? The way he'd been actin'.</p><p>If Ludwig was going to leave, then Berwald wanted him to go ahead and do it already. Didn't want to drag it out a single second longer than was necessary.</p><p>It started raining.</p><p>One of those heavy summer rains. Thunder in the distance. Rolled in out of nowhere, and Berwald tried to focus on the pounding rain on the roof, the water on the window, the wind and thunder. Anything at all that wasn't Ludwig staring at him.</p><p>Too damn ashamed to look over.</p><p>Pitiful, he really was, trying to drive Ludwig away while knowing that Ludwig's absence would be the end of him. Wanting him always there and wanting him to just leave. He dreaded getting used to the cane, using it, becoming proficient with it, and to walk around a corner just to see Ludwig staring at him with disdain.</p><p>A burst of light in the clouds. A long gap, and then thunder. The storm was comforting in a way, the sound of the rain soothing, and they sat there in absolute silence.</p><p>Ludwig still being here at all after how awful Berwald had been was a very clear testament to both his stubbornness and patience. Not endless, though, and Ludwig would eventually crack.</p><p>A louder burst of thunder, right overhead, and Berwald finally gathered the bravery to glance over and meet Ludwig's eyes. Surprisingly, he saw no hatred there. No annoyance that time. Ludwig just looked very tired, rather worn down, but quite tranquil. Very oddly placid in that moment, Ludwig, and Berwald wondered if the others were propping Ludwig up as Berwald was determined to tear him down.</p><p>Maybe Magnus, a master of dealing with a very cranky and aggressive significant other, had said something to make Ludwig feel more confident and sure.</p><p>Their eyes met, and Berwald held his gaze, for the first time since then.</p><p>Ludwig looked him up and down, smiled just a little, and asked, wistfully, "Are we different than we used to be?"</p><p>Berwald studied Ludwig's face, handsome as ever despite the awful look of exhaustion.</p><p>"How d'ya mean?"</p><p>Felt strange, talking to Ludwig after so long.</p><p>Ludwig leaned in towards him just a bit, not enough to press their shoulders together, and Berwald did regret that.</p><p>"When we all first met. Were we different? You think fighting all this time has changed us? I feel like we're different. When I first met you guys. I was shyer, I think. Timo smiled a lot more. Magnus, too. Lukas was always happy. I think we're different. We just didn't notice, you know, because it happened so slowly." A quirk of Ludwig's brow, a study of Berwald, and Ludwig added, lowly, "I think you're the only one that hasn't really changed."</p><p>Berwald scoffed at that, and turned away.</p><p>Hadn't changed, maybe, until he had lost his ability to walk right. He sure as hell was different now, and Ludwig knew it, because had been the one bearing the brunt of his wrath.</p><p>Different...</p><p>The rain picked up ever stronger.</p><p>Berwald closed his eyes, and contemplated. He pulled up his memories of that house in Sweden, where they had all established themselves as a group and as brothers. The way they had been when they had all stood there together the first day.</p><p>Timo. Timo had been Berwald's favorite person back then, because Timo had been so funny and happy. Always smiling, always so friendly, always causing a happy ruckus within the house. Everyone felt at ease around Timo, because Timo cared about them all and had loved them. Always making amicable conversation and lifting everyone's spirits. Timo had mothered them in a sense, had been the first to take care of them when it seemed that they couldn't take care of themselves.</p><p>Now, Timo was always angry, so aggressive, so belligerent, so dangerous. Timo was the warmonger amongst them, the most violent and volatile. Timo didn't joke around anymore, didn't strike up friendly conversations with anyone that wasn't Ludwig. Timo's eyes were no longer gentle. When Timo caused a ruckus in the house now, it was to incite anger. Timo didn't love and care about any of them that didn't align perfectly with his goals. Timo was more likely to cause injury now than he was to fix it up.</p><p>Timo had gone from playful to turbulent.</p><p>Lukas. Lukas had been the most tranquil amongst them. Dreamy and aloof. So calm, poised, dignified. Never cracked, never expressed any emotions. Always in control. Perfectly suave and soft-spoken. Lukas had been so chatty, so content all of the time. Had thrown his arm around everyone and creeped into their personal space without a second thought, had been oozing over all of them rather adoringly, as if Lukas had been their collective big brother.</p><p>Now, Lukas brooded in corners, face always dark, brow low and lips pursed. He wasn't cool now, he lost control of his temper, he screamed, shrieked, fought. He didn't interact with anyone intimately. He didn't approach any of them for idle chitchat. He didn't babble mindlessly to them. Always, the shadow of danger was there upon his face. His dark blue eyes looked more like midnight than the deep ocean they had been. Terrifying more than hypnotizing. The hellish whirlpool.</p><p>Lukas had gone from dreamy to nightmarish.</p><p>Magnus. Magnus had been arrogant, confident. Self-satisfied and so sure, swaggering everywhere, strutting, charming everyone off of their feet. The loud, obnoxious one. Magnus had never shut up, had always chatted and joked, had always filled the silence with endless prattle. Had been so boisterous, drinking and forcing everyone to be together and to be happy. Magnus had been the life of the party, and had striven to keep the mood as cheery and light as possible. Had fallen to one knee and recited endless Shakespeare to Timo, had made even Lukas laugh, had brought Ludwig into their circle all the way. Magnus could have charmed the generals of the armies themselves, probably could have stopped the war single-handedly with a few smooth words.</p><p>Now, Magnus walked with his head down and shoulders slumped. He didn't strut anymore, and rather staggered about clumsily. His eyes never lifted from the floor. He was quiet. Anxious. Always nervous and fretting and stressed. Constantly in a state of mourning. Scared and defeated. Magnus walked with his tail between his legs, always ready to bear the brunt of Timo's wrath, always so scared every time one of them walked out of the door. Magnus couldn't even say goodbye, he was so close to just breaking down. Refused to acknowledge reality, trying so hard to pretend that it would probably end up killing him. Every single time that there was a silence that lasted too long, Magnus' face crumpled and he looked a breath away from bursting into tears.</p><p>Magnus had gone from arrogant to defeated.</p><p>Ludwig. Ludwig, once he had settled with them, had been so quiet. Withdrawn. Had been nervous and self-conscious, but so desperate to befriend them. Ludwig had been hopeful and optimistic when all of them had sat there together in that house, had looked over all of them in turn, and it was so easy to see on Ludwig's face how happy he was to be there. That he had people around him that liked him and that he liked in turn. Ludwig had striven so hard to impress them, had tried so hard, had always given his best, because he was insecure and yet so eager. Ludwig loved them and wanted to be loved, and had tried to integrate amongst them as best he could. Had never wanted to fight, but had gone along with them anyway because they had all sold it to Ludwig well enough to make him think that he was actually accomplishing something. Ludwig had been brave and strong, but so gentle and kind underneath.</p><p>Now, Ludwig just looked around at them, and it was just as easy to see that he was terrified of suddenly noticing that someone was missing. Ludwig was no longer optimistic, no longer had that sense of naivety about him. No longer was nervous or self-conscious or anxious, but only because Ludwig had just burnt out and always looked tired and rather apathetic. Ludwig didn't care about the war, but he had fought on anyway, because he was the only one there that loved every single one of them and didn't want any of them to part ways. Ludwig had run away from home, had been vulnerable to them, and for that perhaps Ludwig saw them all in a different light than they saw each other. Ludwig saw the good in them because he had forced himself to, but reality always crept in and they weren't good people. Ludwig didn't seem hopeful anymore that he had found his place, that he had found a family; Ludwig just looked like he was watching something he had always wanted dissolving in his very hands. As defeated as Magnus, in some less obvious way but no less potently.</p><p>Ludwig realized now that they accomplished <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>Ludwig had gone from hopeful to jaded.</p><p>They <em>had </em>changed.</p><p>And now Berwald was just bitter and wounded.</p><p>Ludwig said that Berwald was the only one that hadn't changed, and maybe that was true. Why? The obvious answer would have been, of course, that Berwald was the only one amongst them who didn't really have anything to lose, because he didn't have a country that was torn apart. No matter how the war ended, Sweden would be the same when he returned as it had been when he had left. He had no real investment, no real passion, no real stakes.</p><p>That wasn't why.</p><p>The others had been hopeful and happy and optimistic before the war. They had had goals and dreams. They had had things to look forward to, lives they wanted to live. They had been looking forward to a future, and they had changed so much because war took all of that and dashed it into the ground. Berwald hadn't changed at all, because the way they were now was the way he had always been. The war couldn't break him down, because he had already been that way before it had started. Didn't change, because he had started with them at the level they now stood. Berwald had been dashed long ago, and didn't need some war to change him.</p><p>Nothing for the war to crush in him, when his life had already always been that way since before he could remember. Berwald had first joined this war with the Finns because he had wanted to get himself shot. Nothing at all to change, when he had already been at his lowest.</p><p>The others had been set up for failure.</p><p>They had changed, the others, and it was disheartening to sit there and think about it and actually realize it.</p><p>But they could still go back to the way they had been, they could. It was still there within them all. Timo still had those moments of playfulness, Magnus still sometimes smirked, Lukas still drifted off and dreamily crooned to them sometimes, and Ludwig still sometimes looked calm and smiled sincerely.</p><p>Like now.</p><p>When the war was over, maybe they could work together to find the people they had once been.</p><p>If they stayed together.</p><p>Berwald looked over at Ludwig, and finally said, perhaps in an effort to soothe Ludwig, "When the war's over, it'll go back to the way it was."</p><p>Almost, anyway. He cast a quick glare at the cane, and said nothing more.</p><p>A short silence, as Ludwig seemed to be in contemplation.</p><p>Another burst of thunder.</p><p>Ludwig stood up, and grabbed the cane up in his hands, studying it rather thoughtfully. Berwald dared a glance at him, and thought that Ludwig was smiling, just a little.</p><p>Ludwig came forward, and playfully tapped the tip of the cane down atop Berwald's messy hair. Bopped him several times, until Berwald had no choice but to look up at him. When their eyes met, Ludwig smiled all the way, closed one eye and brought his hand to his chin and looked at Berwald intensely, mockingly scrutinizing him, tip of the cane still atop his head, and Berwald shifted anxiously.</p><p>Could only imagine what was running through Ludwig's head, as he held that cane.</p><p>Pathetic.</p><p>A long study, and then Ludwig nodded his head approvingly, and said, in that familiar, soothing rumble, "Mm-hm! The glasses and the cane go very well together. I can see it. You'll look just like a professor."</p><p>Oh—</p><p>Berwald squinted his eyes and hung his head, trying hard not to cry.</p><p>Couldn't even explain what he felt then, because it was a little of everything. Devastated and elated and relieved and so terrified. Didn't know what to do or where to go, was helplessly reliant on Ludwig, needed him more than anything, and Ludwig teasing him like that gave him such hope even against his greatest insecurities.</p><p>Ludwig didn't say anything else, and grabbed Berwald's arm and hauled him up to his feet. Hurt like hell, like absolute hell, but that time Berwald didn't take it out on Ludwig. Didn't say anything hurtful, didn't lash out. Just clamped his jaw shut, leaning against Ludwig, and gripped the damn cane when Ludwig forced it into his hand.</p><p>Goddamn, the worst pain he'd ever felt, trying to walk for the first time with that cane, propped up against Ludwig. Just a few minutes, circling the room, before he couldn't breathe and was far too close to tears.</p><p>Every day, Ludwig patiently walked in circles with Berwald, up and down the hall, into the kitchen and then back, building up his endurance slowly and carefully. It hurt, but that didn't matter at all, as long as Ludwig was there beside of him.</p><p>Several days later, Berwald tossed the vial of pills at Ludwig's face, Ludwig caught them, and Berwald said, "Take 'em back. I don't want 'em."</p><p>Ludwig's beautiful smile.</p><p>The days passed, and Berwald tried hard to try hard, for Ludwig, because Ludwig wasn't giving up on him. For Ludwig, Berwald gathered up his nerves and courage, and worked.</p><p>It seemed more and more hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Ludwig would stay with him when the war ended, if only for a while.</p><p>Things got better, and somehow worse.</p><p>Mid-September, and their world shattered again.</p><p>Finland, under too much pressure, collapsed.</p><p>On that day that Finland finally surrendered, finally signed that paper, Timo just sat at the kitchen table, head buried in his arms, and cried until nightfall, Ludwig hovering over him and running a hand down his back. Finland surrendered to the Soviet Union, and Timo's world ended.</p><p>Magnus, who had always wanted the Soviets to win, was quiet and sad, staring at Timo from the doorway and looking weary and downtrodden. Didn't talk, all night. Just stared at Timo, watching him crying, and looked like crying himself.</p><p>Lukas, who considered this a victory, stayed out on the porch and just watched the lake, to keep himself no doubt from accidentally saying or doing anything that would have further broken Timo's heart.</p><p>On that day that Finland, forced by the Allies, declared war on Germany, Timo cried again, hands clenched in his hair and kicking the leg of the table. Oh, god, how Timo <em>cried </em>then, sobbing so hard that he coughed, high-pitched whines often escaping his throat. Utterly bawling, helpless to stop himself.</p><p>That day was the worst.</p><p>Ludwig sat himself down on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest and face burrowed under his arms, tucked into the cushion, and Berwald could see how <em>alone </em>he felt. Like an outcast. Ludwig didn't fight anymore, but having Finland declare war on Germany, when Timo and Ludwig had been countrymen in that way, was too much. Too much for either of them. Ludwig must have felt as if the entire world detested him. Worried that he had lost something in Timo that no one else there could give him.</p><p>Ludwig was still and silent, but they all knew he was crying, too, because every so often his shoulders shook.</p><p>Timo and Ludwig, two of the strongest men Berwald had ever met, in every way, crying their eyes out like that.</p><p>That was painful.</p><p>Somewhere, in the later hours of that miserable day, Timo managed to trudge out of the kitchen, eyes red and bleary and swollen, and he went straight to Ludwig, still curled up in that defensive ball. A short silence, as Timo hung above, and then he reached down, grabbed Ludwig by the shoulder and head, and forcibly pressed Ludwig's face into his stomach.</p><p>Hands flew up and gripped Timo's arms as Timo buried his own face in Ludwig's hair, and everyone could only watch miserably as Timo sobbed, pitifully, in that awful whine, "I don't fuckin' <em>care </em>what they say. I'm not gonna turn— None of us are, I know my fuckin' guys, I do, and I'll keep on fightin' the Reds, no matter what that paper says."</p><p>Timo was still talking after that, but had become incomprehensible to them all except for perhaps Ludwig.</p><p>They stayed like that for a long while, clenching each other like vices. They must have felt so lost. Stranded in the middle of the sea. They huddled together on the couch for the rest of the night, Ludwig burrowed away in Timo's chest as Timo buried his face in Ludwig's hair.</p><p>Come morning, they were still there, passed out in exhaustion.</p><p>Timo's entire universe had shattered, and it was so obvious to see how damaging that was to him. Proud Timo, who never said die, was forced to face his country's surrender. Timo, so vociferous and ardent, so unabashedly patriotic, had to admit defeat at long last, and it was clearly the hardest thing he had ever had to do.</p><p>Every night, Timo and Ludwig sat out on the porch together, and just stared off at nothing.</p><p>Timo cried frequently, despite his efforts to stop it or hide it, and Magnus was suddenly the one trying to hold Timo's head above the water, although he failed miserably at that because Timo loved Finland more than he loved Magnus and was inconsolable.</p><p>Ludwig tried to distract himself by forcing Berwald to keep on walking, farther and farther every time. Sometimes, though, when Berwald had to lean against the wall and pant for air and gather himself, he would glance over, and see Ludwig's jaw clamped and the way he swallowed and blinked rapidly.</p><p>Those days were very quiet.</p><p>Timo looked so <em>lost</em>—didn't know which way to go. Struggling to find himself, as his nation fought with the Germans while the citizens hated the Soviets more. Timo just stared at the wall sometimes, at the map of his country, and looked utterly devastated.</p><p>The Germans steadily retreated from Finland, setting fire to the Lapland above as they went, as the Reds redrew borders below. Karelia was gone, forever, and was no longer Finnish. It was Russian now.</p><p>Torn in half, it seemed, and Ludwig was so quiet.</p><p>Timo hated the Reds, more than anything, so much, but couldn't hurt them anymore; they were allies now, weren't they, and the Finnish Navy had joined up with the Soviet one to control the sea as the Red Army marched steadily on Berlin. No more Reds here to fight.</p><p>What could they do?</p><p>Ludwig sat by the window and watched the trees, but didn't go outside anymore. Wouldn't set foot in town, wouldn't even go all the way down the drive, because he was a Finnish enemy now, in a practical sense, and felt ostracized. Maybe Ludwig was even afraid that someone would take aim at him in anger, because everyone, after all, knew Timo's German.</p><p>Timo didn't go out anymore either, because he just didn't know where to <em>go</em>. Timo would never fight the Germans, scorched earth or no, and neither would his men.</p><p>They disbanded.</p><p>After a while, with Finland being so torn apart and Berwald unable to keep up, with no more Reds to kill, Timo finally found it prudent to leave his beloved Finland behind. It hurt him, they could see that much. To leave behind the thing he loved the most. Had anyone ever loved anything the way Timo loved Finland? Absolute and utter devotion.</p><p>January of 1945.</p><p>They moved back down to Estonia, taking advantage of the relative calm now that the war seemed so close to ending. The water had been clear and easy to cross, their boat too small to attract attention or hit the mines.</p><p>The Germans had long since evacuated Estonia, and here, at least, Timo had Reds yet to take aggression out on. Lukas had been hard to sway, hard to convince, but Magnus had actually dissolved into tears when Lukas had initially refused to accompany them, and perhaps that was why Lukas had changed his mind.</p><p>Magnus and Lukas may not have been best friends, but they had a different sort of connection, were countrymen as much as Timo and Ludwig were, and Magnus would have been as bereft of Lukas as he would have been his actual best friend.</p><p>They all went together, as it should have been.</p><p>That house was still there, looking every bit as decrepit as it had before.</p><p>Memories here. Not all of them good. When they walked into that town, Timo looked around for a long while, eyes heavy and tired, and they knew that he was pretending that Eduard was going to come up and greet him.</p><p>Couldn't be.</p><p>They were all quiet when they once more settled, once more uprooted from comfort and familiarity and thrown back into uncertainty.</p><p>Magnus seemed glad, though, that at least Timo wasn't crying anymore, now that he could go back out against the Reds here.</p><p>This old house.</p><p>Lukas had smiled, tiredly, and said, "Guess I'm on the couch now, huh? Unless one of you guys want to go ahead and fall in love with me really fast."</p><p>Halfhearted laughs.</p><p>Just didn't <em>feel </em>like it.</p><p>It seemed that just when they thought things couldn't get worse, the war proved them wrong.</p><p>Lukas, at long last, finally stopped fighting, because he was only here for brotherhood now. Didn't leave them, and seemed to decide that it was time for him to hang up his coat.</p><p>Berwald tried hard to work on walking as best he could, because it seemed that the war was ever closer to ending. Wanted to be as good as he was going to get when that peace finally came, to have the best chance of swaying Ludwig into fulfilling that promise they had made to go home together. Things had changed since then, and that contract in a sense was broken, because Berwald was different now than he had been when they had uttered those words to each other.</p><p>Didn't have the courage to ask Ludwig outright if he would still honor it.</p><p>Barely had the courage to talk to Ludwig at all.</p><p>Timo and Ludwig sat on the couch together, pressed side to side, and just stared away at the fire at night. No one bothered them, and no one really had the heart to speak much to them. Lukas and Magnus kept each other company as Timo and Ludwig silently mourned. Berwald watched over them from afar, as best he could, working his leg.</p><p>Magnus and Lukas didn't fight anymore. Ludwig and Berwald didn't fight.</p><p>Timo carried on alone. Their leader, with no men. No one else fought, and yet they followed Timo still, because maybe all of them could sit there sometimes and realize that they had been different people. Maybe all of them clung to the hope that when it was all said and done, they would go back to that time and love each other.</p><p>Berwald could only cling to the hope that Ludwig would remember the way Berwald had been once, too.</p><hr/><p>Ludwig had hated being in Estonia the first time, and he hated it just as much the second time. Once more taken from a house he had settled into, a place he had grown to love. Had loved that town, but couldn't stay.</p><p>Ludwig was a Finnish enemy now, wasn't he.</p><p>That hurt.</p><p>He tried to focus his energy on Berwald, tried not to think too much about it all, because seeing Timo crying had been hard to swallow. Timo looked a little happier here, was able to join up with men he knew, was able to still fight and feel useful, and for that Ludwig was grateful. Wished in some way that he could still go out with Timo as he always had, but would never pick up that rifle again.</p><p>Done, for good.</p><p>Estonia, however, did have good things lying in wait for Ludwig.</p><p>It was then, at long last, there in Estonia, that Timo created papers for Ludwig. Had so many connections, so many people, and finally seemed to find it prudent that Ludwig be able to pass freely. Now that the war was close to ending. They were just good enough for now, enough to get by.</p><p>Could have just been himself, could have gone to any Allied country and declare himself a defector and gained documents with his own name.</p><p>But he didn't.</p><p>Didn't want to, in the end, because it felt more respectful to Gilbert that Ludwig just get a new name and start all over. Gilbert wanted to forget Ludwig existed, and this worked well enough. No need to hurt Gilbert, even if he didn't know it, by carrying on Gilbert's name.</p><p>Didn't surprise Ludwig at all that Timo's new name for him was of course Ludde.</p><p>Should have voiced a preference, perhaps.</p><p>Magnus just teased him with a halfhearted, 'Told ya we'd integrate ya!'</p><p>Sure.</p><p>Timo, looking ever more tired with each day that passed, just looked at Ludwig heavily, and said, 'Soon as the war's over, we'll go down to Denmark. All your legal records were lost, is all. There's gonna be so many people displaced, so many refugees. You won't stand out. They'll just look at your papers and issue you a new national number and call it a day. You'll be Danish from now on.'</p><p>Magnus punched Ludwig's shoulder, smiling sincerely for the first time in so long, and added, 'You're really gonna be my bother now, huh?'</p><p>Ludwig didn't say anything, because in some way he wanted to cry.</p><p>Devastated at losing his true identity, and yet so indescribably grateful and elated that these men cared about him enough to do this. That Magnus could flee from German occupation and then turn a German into his brother.</p><p>Magnus rested a hand on his back, perhaps seeing how he felt, and Timo had left them alone.</p><p>Seemed that everything was coming all together, both good and bad.</p><p>The war would end soon, they could all feel it.</p><p>Timo had to let Finland go, but bravely pushed on in Estonia, still fearless and still determined to take out as many Red soldiers as he possibly could before the treaty came. Maybe that was Timo's goal now, since Finland had surrendered; just to tally as many men as he could.</p><p>Ludwig let him be. Timo handled things in his own way, as he always had.</p><p>Berwald was still struggling, still climbing, and Ludwig did his best to make sure that Berwald didn't ever sit down and give up and slide back down the cliff. He was still in awful pain, that was obvious, but it was a little better than it had been, and Berwald could sleep better at night. Didn't writhe as much, didn't hiss and sweat.</p><p>He was slow and clumsy, but was trying. With a stubborn, dumb bull like Berwald, all anyone could ever ask for was that he tried.</p><p>But still, despite his trying, Berwald was ever quiet. Didn't speak much at all, and often just stared at Ludwig, almost anxiously, and was always quick to look away when Ludwig glanced over. Could only imagine what was going on in Berwald's head, and tried not to push him too hard and too fast. Berwald needed patience now more than ever, as he came to terms with everything.</p><p>Every month, though, Berwald was able to walk a bit farther.</p><p>Just wished Berwald would talk a little to him.</p><p>The snows were high, and one day, towards the end of February, Timo came up to Ludwig and clapped him on the back.</p><p>"How's he been doing?"</p><p>Ludwig tried to smile, and failed.</p><p>"Okay. Better. Walking, at least."</p><p>Timo lifted his chin, seemed to understand that Ludwig was entirely uncertain as to how Berwald was doing mentally, and gave a noise of thought.</p><p>"Well. If there's anyone that can get through to him, it's you. You always did before when no one else could. He'll come around. You'll see."</p><p>Ludwig tried to be hopeful, and then Magnus came in and plopped down with them at the table.</p><p>Didn't think anything of it, until Timo said, "We're gonna leave for a while. A couple of weeks, at most."</p><p>Ludwig gawked at them, back and forth, and was absolutely shocked.</p><p>Timo and Magnus, going out together again? Holy shit. That was astounding, it truly was. How in god's name had Timo ever talked Magnus into that? Or had Magnus just been so upset by Timo's devastation that he was taking pity on Timo and offering to help him out?</p><p>Hard to say.</p><p>Timo smiled at the look on Ludwig's face, and murmured, "We'll leave in the morning. It's up to you to hold down the fort until I get back. Don't you let those other two jerks get into trouble, alright?"</p><p>Ludwig snorted, and was glad at least to see Timo and Magnus together again.</p><p>That night, Ludwig managed to get Magnus alone, and asked, in a whisper, "Why are you going?"</p><p>Magnus' sad smile.</p><p>"I don't really want to, but—" A shuffle of Magnus' feet, and damn, that expression on Magnus' face nearly broke Ludwig's heart. Had never seen him look quite like that, when he uttered, "I asked Timo to stay with me after, when the war ends, you know, since it's so close. I asked him if we could be together, if he'd— He said he'd stay with me, if I help him out until then. I think maybe he just wants to see if I love him more than the Reds. I think he thought I would say 'no'. I think maybe even he was kinda hoping. Ha. Joke's on him—I'm pathetic, so I'll throw away loyalties for him. Even if he wouldn't for me."</p><p>A crumple of Magnus' face, a sharp inhale, and then Magnus gathered himself.</p><p>"So. That's why. I'll go, for now. The war will end soon, and then that bastard has to hold up his end of the bargain, right? Even if he doesn't really wanna stay with me, he has to. I'll do what I said I would, and so he'll have to, too. Right?"</p><p>Oh—couldn't stand it.</p><p>Ludwig hugged that pitiful jerk then, pressed his lips into Magnus' ear as Magnus nearly dissolved against him, and whispered, "He loves you, you know? If he didn't, if he really didn't, he woulda shot you and Lukas a long time ago. You know that."</p><p>That was true. It was a testament to how much Timo really did love Magnus that he had allowed Magnus and Lukas to keep sabotaging the Germans.</p><p>Magnus sniveled a little into his shirt as Ludwig had so often sniveled into his, and when Magnus pulled back, he seemed a little brighter, a little more confident. Magnus gripped Ludwig's arms, and said, far more cheerily, "I told you, we'll all be together when it ends. I managed to pin down Timo. Berwald ain't going anywhere. Work on Lukas a little for me, won't ya? I don't want him to leave, either. I want all of us to be together. Try your hand at Lukas. I've given it my all already."</p><p>"I will," Ludwig vowed.</p><p>When Magnus wiped his eyes, Ludwig gave him a good shake, and said, "But hey—you know that I'm gonna tell Berwald that you said you couldn't live without him."</p><p>Magnus burst into loud laughter, punched his shoulder, and come morning Magnus seemed so much happier.</p><p>When he and Timo stood before the door to leave, this time Magnus actually offered goodbyes. Came out of his imaginary world because he was hopeful, because he had at long last acquired what he wanted, was closer and closer to achieving his dream of being with Timo and having all of his friends by his side.</p><p>Lukas shook his head a bit, seemed disappointed by Magnus caving to Timo, but for once had nothing smart to say. Magnus even said goodbye to Berwald, with an awkward jerk of his hand and a gruff mumble.</p><p>Berwald had seemed confused, and didn't respond, retreating as quickly as he could into the bedroom to avoid any unwanted interactions.</p><p>Ludwig stood before them as they gathered up their things, and then Timo said something that took both him and Magnus very much by surprise.</p><p>Timo looked around wistfully, took a deep breath, reached out and clapped Ludwig's upper arm, and added, "I've been thinking... I know I always said that I'd keep fightin' until the war ended, but I've been thinking about it a lot. I think this'll be the last time. Once we come back, I think I'm gonna just hang everything up and settle down. I did my time. I'm kinda tired, to be honest. Let's just go back to the house in Sweden. How's that sound? When we come back, let's go back there. I liked it there. I think we all did."</p><p>Absolute and utter disbelief.</p><p>For an awful moment, Ludwig thought that Magnus would burst into tears right there, for that look on his face. He didn't, in the end, just staring at Timo with wide eyes and a wonderful look of awe and hope and adoration.</p><p>Timo, their absurdly dedicated near-tyrant, calling it quits at long last.</p><p>Ludwig hoped, above all else, that Magnus <em>understood </em>in that moment at last how much Timo really did love him. It was no coincidence that Timo was suddenly stopping, was suddenly conceding, was suddenly retiring, immediately after Magnus had asked him to stay with him.</p><p>Timo, with Finland out of his grasp, at last clung to Magnus.</p><p>Maybe Magnus did realize it; his face relaxed and his eyes lidded, the crease in his forehead softened, and Magnus looked so peaceful then. That beautiful expression; Ludwig loved Magnus when he looked like that. Stuck in his mind, that look. Liked imagining Magnus like that more than seeing him so sad all the time.</p><p>Everything they had wanted.</p><p>The end of their service.</p><p>"Sounds excellent," Ludwig finally said, and Timo squeezed his arm. "It's about time. Hurry up and come back, then. We don't want to get too old. We have a lot of fun to catch up on."</p><p>Timo snorted.</p><p>"I thought we had been having fun this whole time? You jerk. See ya around. Start packing up, maybe, if you want. We shouldn't be too long. And hey—Berwald will be happy. Maybe this will cheer him up. Keep a good eye on him, alright? Later."</p><p>They shared their goodbye, a quick bump of their fists like always, and Magnus gave him a one-armed hug and ruffled his hair.</p><p>Ludwig watched them go, chest tight with an overload of excitement and happiness and everything else. He looked over and shared a long look with Lukas, who seemed about as flabbergasted as Ludwig felt. Ludwig leered at Lukas, and said, so smoothly, "Well, guess you're gonna haveta find a new job up there in the mountains. I kinda see you as a shepherd."</p><p>He had promised Magnus he would work on convincing Lukas to stay.</p><p>Lukas primly lifted his chin, and retorted, just as smoothly, "<em>You</em> look like you'd be good for milking cows, so I don't see where you get off."</p><p>Ludwig laughed, and for the first time in forever, he and Lukas sat down on the couch, and spoke. Just chatted, as they had so long ago, and there was absolutely no tension, no hesitations, because they didn't fight anymore and therefore no longer stood on opposite sides of a raging river.</p><p>They were going home, all of them together, and Lukas almost smiled for a while there as he once had.</p><p>Ludwig eyed the bedroom door, but he didn't tell Berwald right away what Timo had said. Wanted to save it almost as a surprise. Wanted to wait until Berwald was in a good mood, if he could ever get one anyway.</p><p>Night fell, and when they lied together, when Ludwig was half-asleep, Berwald suddenly rolled over and threw his arm over Ludwig's chest. The first time since then. A burning rush of euphoria.</p><p>Everything was coming together.</p><p>Maybe Berwald had been struck hard by Magnus going out with Timo like that out of nowhere. Maybe it had made him think about their own situation, because he finally spoke up a little. His words though...</p><p>They hurt a bit.</p><p>A low, mournful whisper.</p><p>"Please don't leave."</p><p>Even so sleepy, Ludwig still furrowed his brow in confusion. Leave? Where would he go? He hadn't professed a desire to leave since back then.</p><p>Years.</p><p>"Why would I leave?"</p><p>He'd traveled so far to get back here. He'd done everything in his power to get back to this crazy man.</p><p>The grip tightened, and Berwald was silent for a moment before elaborating.</p><p>"I can't... I know I've been a bastard, and I can't walk so good now, but please don't leave. I... I'm tryin' to walk faster, I am, just... I just need some more time. A little. So. Don't go yet."</p><p>How that hurt to hear. Did Berwald have such little faith in him? Didn't Berwald know that Ludwig had never even once considered leaving his side? Whatever happened, he had promised they would be together.</p><p>He reached up, grabbing Berwald's forearm within his hands, and gave a snort.</p><p>"Nice try. You can't get rid of me that easily."</p><p>Berwald wasn't great with words, but neither was he. So he said that, instead of saying, 'I wouldn't ever leave you, because I've been in love with you since I met you.'</p><p>Playing it off like that was easier, for both of them, so that he wouldn't start crying, and Berwald kissed the back of his neck and squeezed him so hard that he could barely breathe.</p><p>As an afterthought, Ludwig added, as he gripped Berwald, "Anyway, I have to confess something."</p><p>Berwald was silent. Anxious.</p><p>A twist, as Ludwig squirmed enough to look over at Berwald, and catch his eye.</p><p>"I don't know if you know, but you've always been really damn slow. I don't think I've even noticed a difference, as a matter of fact. And you've always been a bastard, too, come to think. Sorry."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>When Berwald started crying, Ludwig pretended he didn't notice, and brought Berwald's rough hand up to his lips. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.</p><p>At the final brink, before unconsciousness came, there was a sudden whisper in his ear, drawing him back.</p><p>"I lied. It's not your fault. I— If ya hadn't said anythin', I still woulda gone. I woulda gone with Timo, even if you hadn't. It's not your fault. I was mad. I woulda gone."</p><p>Ludwig flipped himself over then, put them nose to nose, and rested his hand on Berwald's cheek. Maybe in some way Ludwig had known that, but to hear it confirmed was a great relief. Best for them to both carry on without guilt, perhaps, because they had enough hurdles as it was.</p><p>So, that time, Ludwig said, "I won't ever leave you. As long as you want me around, I'll stay."</p><p>That was his promise to Berwald, and he would hold to it.</p><p>Berwald pressed his forehead into Ludwig's, and they clung to each other as they had for years.</p><p>When they fell asleep, Ludwig knew that the morning would be one more step towards their ultimate happiness. Closer and closer every day to journey's end.</p><p>Ludwig counted down the minutes now with breathless anticipation. Couldn't wait for Timo to come back and put down his rifle. To see Magnus' face when at long last he knew that everyone was going to be safe. To see Lukas set aside his wires for good, and see the world outside of his head.</p><p>Berwald was rising up again like the phoenix he was, and that wonderful dream Ludwig had had was ever closer to becoming reality.</p><p>The end of their war.</p><p>Couldn't wait to be Magnus' Danish brother.</p><p>That chain that Ludwig saw them as was ever closer to being clasped.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Love Has Lost Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 27</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Love Has Lost Again</strong>
</p><p>It was strange to Berwald that suddenly Lukas and Ludwig were so oddly happy and laidback. In this house that held many bad memories, in front of this forest that had held horror for all of them, in this dangerous land, somehow Lukas and Ludwig were teasing each other and smiling.</p><p>Berwald watched them, bewildered and yet so ecstatic.</p><p>How bizarre to see them like that, after years of being at each other's throats.</p><p>Seeing them, perhaps, as they had been back in Sweden. It truly was like going back in time, and Berwald would wobble into the kitchen, sit down at the table, and just stare at them through the frame. Why were they acting this way? Had Lukas retiring just automatically healed all of the wounds they had caused each other? Did it erase everything that had been said and done?</p><p>This dreary, decrepit house was suddenly far more appealing to Berwald. The yard wasn't as gloomy, at the foot of that frightening forest. The dust and creaking wasn't as ghastly. The shadows weren't as dark. The haunting living room, where he had had such awful nightmares, seemed far airier.</p><p>Hard to be melancholy, when Ludwig said something smart and Berwald glanced up to see Lukas holding him in a headlock. To see them practically wrestling each other, cursing the other not so seriously, and causing a ruckus as if they were children again.</p><p>Fascinating.</p><p>Years and years, and Berwald had known that Lukas was a breath away from snapping all of their necks, and now suddenly he held Ludwig's firmly but carefully, and was smiling. Smiling? When had that happened? What the hell was going on?</p><p>Berwald watched them, as he tumbled his way up and down the hall in practice, and noticed that Lukas looked quite perfectly serene as he sat next to Ludwig on the sofa and blabbered away about mythology, for the first time in forever. Ludwig's eyes were rather glazed over as he nodded obediently along, and Berwald snorted at that expression. A man who regretted ever sitting down to begin with. When Ludwig's head dropped a bit, Lukas would reach over and punch his old chest wound and startle him back into the real world. Ludwig would scowl, but crankily shake his head and try to pay attention.</p><p>Out in the yard, Ludwig and Lukas had taken to walking around together to play in the snow. Berwald liked to watch them from the window as they built little snow forts and threw snowballs at each other, and more than anything Berwald loved the positively <em>furious </em>expression on Ludwig's face when Lukas managed to hit him. Their real war may have ended, but they made plenty of play war as they waited for Timo and Magnus.</p><p>Ludwig had so much pent up energy and aggression, and although Lukas was almost as old as Berwald was, he was certainly far more energetic and more than able to keep up with Ludwig, wearing him out effectively after a few hours.</p><p>Berwald remembered, so many years ago, when he and Ludwig had been hanging sheets out to dry here in this very yard and Ludwig had tried to suffocate him with one. Those memories were good ones; this was where Ludwig had first started chasing him, after all, and so it was comforting in some way to see Ludwig and Lukas sort of reenacting that here. Felt a bit like they were finding their way back into the past.</p><p>Watching Lukas and Ludwig hanging clothes to dry and tormenting each other as they did so, Lukas clipping a clothespin savagely to Ludwig's ear and Ludwig retaliating by wringing a cloth very tight and striking Lukas' thigh with it when he was wasn't looking. A shocking oath in Norwegian, as Lukas whirled furiously around and tackled Ludwig.</p><p>Berwald watched them roughhousing, and couldn't stop smiling, at the sheer absurdity. Like little kids, alright. School was in. Would have thrown those words back at Lukas, for his frequent chiding of them, but valued his life more than that.</p><p>Did they know something Berwald didn't? They looked so happy.</p><p>Suddenly, out of nowhere, Lukas didn't scare Berwald anymore. As it once had been.</p><p>Didn't know how they had come exactly to this moment in time, but loved it. Lukas had swept Ludwig up the first day they had met, and it was wonderful to see them finding that camaraderie again after their violent break.</p><p>When Lukas wore Ludwig out, Ludwig turned his attention back to Berwald, and Berwald very happily accepted it.</p><p>The pain was much easier to handle when the people around him were happy.</p><p>Four days after Timo had left, Ludwig came up to Berwald, scrutinized him as he often did, and then reached down and snatched Berwald's glasses right off his face.</p><p>Ah, how familiar. Wonderfully so.</p><p>Ludwig helped Berwald to his feet, stood him up straight, and said, so seriously, "Follow me. Or else."</p><p>With no choice, blind and helpless, Berwald snorted, "Yes, sir."</p><p>He was led out onto the back porch, pushed down carefully into a chair, and could see the blur that was Ludwig leaning beside of him. Could smell the forest and the snow, although he couldn't see it. Ludwig was suddenly right before him, and Berwald jumped a bit when Ludwig snipped a pair of scissors very threateningly in his face.</p><p>Could be pretty scary sometimes when he wanted to be, Ludwig, and Berwald narrowed his eyes, tried to see, and pursed his lips. Ludwig was probably smirking away, though, and merely said, "You desperately need a haircut."</p><p>Berwald made a noise of offense, and grumbled, "It's not that bad. I kinda like it."</p><p>It wasn't so very long, reaching the nape of his neck. His bangs may have been covering his eyes, though. Messy as hell, in all fairness, since he didn't bother much to comb it anymore.</p><p>In retaliation, Ludwig grabbed his collar, sat him up straight, and said, "You're startin' to look like Magnus."</p><p>Berwald huffed, and was quick to demand, "Cut it all off then."</p><p>Ludwig snorted, and started snipping away.</p><p>"It was a compliment."</p><p>Like hell.</p><p>Berwald sat obediently still as Ludwig clipped his hair, and Berwald was more than a little concerned, to be quite frank, because it had always been Timo and Lukas who had been the hairstylists before. Berwald couldn't say he was very confident in Ludwig's abilities, and dreaded looking a fool.</p><p>Surely enough, ten minutes later or so, Ludwig cursed under his breath and cried out for Lukas.</p><p>Berwald squirmed.</p><p>Lukas, for his part, giggled quite happily as he took over and fixed whatever in god's name Ludwig had done to his hair. Lukas tidied up, and leaned down very frequently to tease Berwald here and there in Norwegian, as Ludwig no doubt lingered nearby.</p><p>"He's trying very hard to take charge of you. Careful. He might try to become the man of the household soon. He's going to go from doing dishes to fixing the roof. You'll be the one relegated to being our housewife instead."</p><p>Berwald snorted at that, and tossed back, "I'm not too worried; we all know damn well Timo is the man of the house. We're all just his housewives. Timo will put that kid in line real quick."</p><p>Lukas laughed, and Ludwig, thinking they were making fun of his haircut attempt, muttered, "You guys are jerks."</p><p>Lukas wandered off when Berwald's hair was fixed, Ludwig cleared his throat and tried very hard to take charge again, and Berwald wasn't going to really complain too much when Ludwig started shaving him. Would take this bit of pampering while it lasted. Ludwig must have been bored out of his mind here, with nothing else to do except slam Lukas into the ground.</p><p>As Ludwig carefully dragged the razor, he suddenly said, "You look better."</p><p>Berwald teased, "Lukas saved the day, huh?"</p><p>Ludwig gave an offended sigh and gently pushed Berwald's shoulder, before elaborating, "That's not what I meant. I mean, you look better. Happier."</p><p>Berwald stared up at the fuzzy blur that was Ludwig, thoughtfully, and merely said, "Because you're happier. You an' Lukas. You're both happy all of a sudden. I like it."</p><p>Wished he knew why.</p><p>Ludwig was silent after that. Was probably smirking away still, holding onto his little secrets. A long while later, Ludwig dragged him into the bathroom and dunked his head over the bathtub to wash his hair, toweled him off, and at long last Berwald was given back his glasses, as Ludwig perched them carefully atop his nose. One of Berwald's favorite things in life was seeing Ludwig clearly again after having him so blurry for hours. Seeing that diamond gleaming out from the bleary mess.</p><p>Ludwig was smiling.</p><p>"You clean up pretty well," Ludwig drawled, as he stood Berwald up and led him to the mirror. Berwald was a bit startled by how short his hair was. Rather shorn in the back. Cut more like Ludwig's, almost. Looked a bit less homely, he supposed. Ludwig rested his chin on Berwald's shoulder, their eyes met in the mirror, and Ludwig added, "You're almost too handsome. I think I should have just left you alone. Suitors will come calling soon."</p><p>A rush of red to his face, but an undeniable boost of ego he desperately needed, unfounded though it was. No one had ever noticed him before Ludwig, and they sure as hell weren't going to start now, but the words felt nice all the same.</p><p>Ludwig was trying so hard, as he always had, to make Berwald smile.</p><p>As it always had, it worked.</p><p>That moment, perhaps, when they stared at each other in their reflection, was when Berwald finally and truly grasped that Ludwig wasn't going to leave him. Finally sank in, finally settled there in his head. He understood in that second that if Ludwig were going to walk out he already would have done so, and instead he was here playing with Berwald's hair.</p><p>Berwald would have dragged himself across the world entire for Ludwig, cane or no, and finally, at long last, he was able to let go of that anger, that fear, that insecurity. If Ludwig hadn't left him when he had been acting such a fool, then Berwald was convinced now that he never would. He trusted Ludwig.</p><p>If Magnus and Timo could spend all of these years on opposite sides and still somehow trust each other, if Timo could stay with Magnus in spite of what he had considered the ultimate betrayal of not supporting Finland, then maybe Berwald should have always trusted that Ludwig would have stayed by him.</p><p>He put all of his trust into Ludwig then, and perhaps it was also time to start trusting himself.</p><p>In a way, maybe that was years overdue.</p><hr/><p>Every day, it seemed, Berwald perked up a little more.</p><p>Was getting better with walking, with the cane, with his attitude, every time Ludwig looked up.</p><p>Every day was better.</p><p>Ludwig watched Berwald walking as often as he could, and could see that he went farther and farther each time. Lasted longer before having to stop. Built up more stamina and strength with each instance. Berwald was pushing himself as far as he could, and Ludwig was beyond proud. Sometimes, when he watched Berwald fall still and gasp for air, clearly in pain, and yet still gathering himself back up and forcing himself onward, Ludwig wanted to just grab Lukas and point and say, 'That's <em>my </em>man.'</p><p>Berwald impressed him, as he often had.</p><p>Six days after Timo and Magnus had set out, Berwald was pushing himself along as he always did, and Ludwig watched him going up and down the hall. Felt extremely affectionate suddenly, one of those random bursts of adoration, and he came up into Berwald's path, and leaned himself against the wall. He stood there silently until Berwald finally looked up at him.</p><p>Oh, Berwald.</p><p>Tilted sideways, putting all of his weight on the cane, brow covered in sweat from the exertion, he looked at Ludwig, glasses a bit crooked and short hair sticking upright to high heaven. Looked a perfect mess, and for that Ludwig found him remarkably handsome in that instant. Berwald, in one of those very rare moments, actually tried to smile. It might not have made it all the way up, might not have been real or bright, but it was a smile all the time. Panting to catch his breath, face flushed red, Berwald finally opened his mouth, and asked, "How do I look?"</p><p>Ludwig uncrossed his arms, lifted up his chin, and said, "Better! That's a good look for you, like I knew it would be. Did I ever tell you that I fancy men with canes? It's very regal. One might mistake you now for the King of Sweden."</p><p>The smile might have become a real one then, and Berwald finally let himself lean against the wall, too tired to get much farther. All the same, he said, quite seriously, "Wish you'd'a told me sooner. I'd've gotten blown up a long time ago. All that time I wasted, tryin' to seduce ya on good legs."</p><p>Ludwig laughed, quite loudly, and felt happy, quick to toss back, "I thought I was the one that seduced you?"</p><p>Berwald shook his head, breathing yet through his mouth as he rested, and uttered, "Nuh-uh. I just made ya think that. I was the one that had ya chasin' after me. I took ya for a ride. Ya didn't even know it."</p><p>Oh, was that so? Ludwig remembered it very differently, but conceded to Berwald dutifully, replying in perfect monotone, "Oh, yes, you're right. Silly me."</p><p>Berwald rested there and gathered himself for a while, and Ludwig smiled when he pushed off the wall several minutes later and carried on.</p><p>They'd be alright. It was easy to see, then.</p><p>Later in the evening, Ludwig found Berwald sitting on the edge of the bed, face scrunched up in pain as he ran his palms down his thigh. Clear enough that it was hurting him. Perhaps Berwald was pushing himself a little too far, desperate as he apparently was to prove that he could get himself back up into some sort of his former glory.</p><p>Berwald noticed Ludwig in the frame, looked up at him, tried to smile, and turned his eyes back down to his leg.</p><p>"Does it hurt?" Ludwig asked, and Berwald gave a stiff nod.</p><p>Ludwig came forward, and stood before the bed.</p><p>"Not as bad as before, though, right?"</p><p>Berwald seemed irritable, annoyed by his questions perhaps, but he shook his head all the same. A little cranky now, as the pain roared up. It came and went, Berwald's bad moods, but they were infrequent now and no longer malicious. Ludwig would let him have them, because outside of them he was trying very hard. Guess the poor old guy deserved a few foul moods here and there.</p><p>Even though Berwald was pissy and moody, Ludwig still smiled, and dropped carefully down to his knees. He took Berwald's hands within his own, forced them to his sides, and brought his own hands back to the leg in question, taking over. Berwald's irritation seemed to fade a little as he ran his palms over the sore muscles.</p><p>He was going a bit out of his way these days to coddle Berwald, granted, but that was in good part because he was desperately seeking a perfect mood. Wanted a fantastic mood from Berwald so that Ludwig could sit down beside of him and tell him that when Timo came back, they were going <em>home</em>.</p><p>Wanted Berwald to fully experience those words, and a bad mood would have dampened it.</p><p>He pressed the muscles as firmly as he dared, relying on silent Berwald's wincing as his guide. The scars were less shocking to him now. He'd gotten used to them by then, by that shrapnel pattern, as well as the dip in the muscle of Berwald's thigh. Could only imagine how much that must have hurt. Would have gladly switched places with him, but there was no point in dwelling on that.</p><p>The crinkle in Berwald's brow began lifting after a while, and well...</p><p>Ludwig looked about, perhaps a bit mischievously, for Berwald began eyeing him. He stood up, darted to the door and twisted the lock, because the last thing he would have needed was Lukas barging into the bedroom. Lukas slept on the couch but used their dresser, and having him come in for a change of clothes would have been a bit traumatic for him perhaps, as Ludwig set his sights on Berwald.</p><p>Ludwig marched on Berwald, and Berwald's face very clearly read, 'Oh shit'.</p><p>Berwald could sit up straight and tense and bristle all he wanted, but he was no longer able to escape Ludwig, couldn't run away, and was absolutely helpless when Ludwig pounced on him. Ha! As if Berwald would have ever tried to run, and indeed he sat there quite cooperatively when Ludwig once more fell down to his knees. If Berwald was still in pain then, he couldn't be bothered to worry about it, given that his hands were far more intent on ripping Ludwig's hair right out of his head.</p><p>Yeah, Berwald was the one that had seduced him alright. Sure.</p><p>Having red-faced Berwald smiling dumbly afterwards was the best reward, glasses crooked on his nose as they were. The foul mood was certainly gone, and Ludwig was feeling very self-satisfied.</p><p>Berwald did grumble, "Wait 'til I can walk better. Yer in for it."</p><p>Couldn't wait!</p><p>The next morning, Berwald's mood was good. Very good, come to think.</p><p>Berwald was in a <em>very</em> good mood, at long last and after great effort, and so that afternoon Ludwig sat down next to him, and shot him such a bright, blinding smile that Berwald actually looked suspicious.</p><p>"Well!" he said, eagerly. "Guess what news I have for you?"</p><p>Berwald only raised a brow, having no care for guessing games and knowing that Ludwig didn't either, and he only asked, carefully, "What?"</p><p>Was certainly tensed up, ready for whatever insanity Ludwig was about to throw out at him. Berwald knew better than to trust Ludwig when he smiled like that, after all.</p><p>It took him a while to stop smiling long enough to talk again, and it felt so good, so damn good, to finally say, "Once Timo and Magnus come back, we're all going home. It's the last time. Timo doesn't wanna fight anymore, if you can believe it. We're gonna go back to Sweden."</p><p>A short, stunned silence, as Berwald struggled to digest this amazing information, and it wasn't long before he started smiling, too. One of the prettier smiles he had ever seen from Berwald. Calm and soft. Peaceful, and Berwald was lovely for it.</p><p>It might have been then in that smile that Ludwig realized, for the first time, that maybe Berwald hadn't wanted to go on fighting after all. All these years, maybe what Berwald had really wanted was just to go home with someone.</p><p>Berwald was very quick to grab Ludwig's hand, and ask, a bit breathlessly, "You're comin' home with me, right?"</p><p>The first time Berwald had bothered to actually ask rather than demand.</p><p>Felling tranquil and happy, Ludwig nodded his head. With that, Berwald lit up.</p><p>They were all going home together, all of them.</p><p>Ludwig watched that day as Berwald rose up, as he had every time before, and finally cast aside the shadows. Once more, Berwald came right back from that mist, that dark, stepped back from the cliff. Ludwig watched him with awe as he always had, and yet again Berwald was smiling.</p><p>Lukas noticed it too, and seemed to be in an equally content mood for it. It seemed that one of them being in a good mood lifted the others up as well, in that endless running of the circle that they all were.</p><p>After Berwald discovered that they were just a few weeks from returning to civilian life, he lifted up his chin and seemed to find a good bit of optimism.</p><p>Berwald was perking up so much, in fact, that Ludwig began watching him from the corner of his eye, waiting for Berwald to start getting Ludwig into trouble again. So far, though, Berwald had been exceptionally well behaved. Biding his time, perhaps, until Timo came back.</p><p>One morning, Ludwig came up behind Berwald out on the porch, and heard him humming.</p><p>That was beautiful.</p><p>When Ludwig came up to his side, Berwald rested his weight on the cane and flung his left arm out, throwing it over Ludwig's shoulders and hauling him in. The best feeling in the world, and Ludwig was quick to rest against Berwald's chest.</p><p>Berwald was <em>happy</em>; not a sentence he was exactly used to forming up in his head. Berwald had a certain scale of moods that Ludwig had long since gotten used to, but it was an extremely rare moment when Ludwig had been able to look over at Berwald and see him and feel that he was actually feeling happiness for the sake of happiness.</p><p>This was one of those times. Knowing that they were going home did such wonders on Berwald, as much as it had Magnus. That beautiful look on Magnus' face before they had walked out of the door—that was the expression Berwald often wore now.</p><p>Nine days after their companions had set out, Ludwig received a very pleasant surprise.</p><p>Had been sweeping the floor mindlessly, lost up in his own little world, when a ruckus dragged him back to reality. A loud cry in Norwegian, and Ludwig looked up to see Lukas marching on him. Ludwig straightened up and dropped the broom, alert and ready to engage physically with Lukas as he often was nowadays, ready to get out some of this reserve of energy he had now that he hadn't gone out into the world in so long.</p><p>Lukas seemed just as ready, and when he lunged at Ludwig to try to wrangle him and subdue him, he cried aloud, "You bastard! What did I say about touching my stuff? Knock it off! If one more of my blue shirts touches my white shirts, I'm gonna strangle you with one of them! <em>Stop</em> it!"</p><p>Ludwig was so caught off guard that he fell still, and Lukas was quick to use the opportunity to move in on Ludwig and wrap a strong forearm around his neck. Damn—Ludwig just looked up, dumbly, unable to breathe, and saw Berwald sitting on the sofa so innocently, tapping his cane atop the coffee table as he read the paper in his lap casually.</p><p>Being choked out by Lukas then hardly mattered, because Ludwig started smiling.</p><p>Felt so happy then, when Berwald glanced at him from the corner of his eye with a lifted brow, quite coyly.</p><p>That petulant, childish jerk. Loved him so much.</p><p>Lukas released him shortly after when he felt Ludwig had had enough life throttled out of him, stomped off, and Ludwig went to throw himself down beside Berwald and rub at his neck.</p><p>All he said then, gruffly, was, "You're gonna get me killed."</p><p>Berwald flipped a page of the paper, and merely rumbled back, "Guess ya should stop messin' with his stuff. Ya know he hates it when his clothes get all mixed up. You're a jerk."</p><p>Wanted to play along, but he just couldn't then, because he was so happy that Berwald was once more out of those ashes and burning brightly. He scooted over, settled against Berwald's side, rested his head atop his shoulder, and said, "I'm glad you're back. I missed you."</p><p>An arm over his shoulders.</p><p>Ludwig could look back upon his life entire, and say for certain that these days were his happiest, knowing that it had all come full circle.</p><p>Berwald and Ludwig sat at the table that night, and began planning once more. As it had been, and now they waited so impatiently for Timo so that they could at last return to Sweden. Berwald rested his chin in his palm, smiled, and said, "That house was given to us by other fighters. If ya want, we can try to buy it, all of us together. Make it really ours. Or we can just head off somewhere else."</p><p>Head off into the unknown?</p><p>Maybe, one day, but Ludwig dreamt often of that house in the mountains, and was quick to offer, "I liked that house. Didn't you?"</p><p>Where they had all met.</p><p>Serenely, Berwald nodded.</p><p>Ludwig straightened up in excitement, and felt everything aligning in his favor for once.</p><p>That night, he crossed his arms behind his head, closed his eyes, and envisioned the immediate future. Timo and Magnus would come back, Timo would finally stare off in the direction of Finland and bid it a silent farewell, and then they would cross the sea one last time together. Fix up those old cars if they were still there, and if not procure a new one. Ride all the way back up through the mountains, and there that house would sit up on the hill, waiting for them as it had these years. All of them together would settle in and relax, rest, shake loose everything the war had thrust upon them. They'd find the people they had been before, and one day Ludwig would wake up and it would be identical to how it had been when he had woken up years ago to feeling like he had found somewhere he belonged. They'd come back to themselves, hang around, and maybe, god willing, the others would stay there. They'd spend the rest of their lives in that house and be brothers.</p><p>His dream, and he didn't let any doubts come in. Didn't consider that of course eventually Lukas would wander off and get married and start his own family somewhere. Didn't consider that Timo and Magnus would probably want their own home, their own little place, their own world.</p><p>Didn't matter, for now. As long as they were together for as long as they possibly could be, and if they did drift, then Ludwig would find a way to make certain that they were always nearby and always saw each other. Smarmy Lukas could slither out into Norway all he wanted, but Ludwig would creep right up behind him and still jump out at him from shadows. Timo and Magnus could have their own cozy little place, in whatever land they desired, but Ludwig would still knock on their door or throw pebbles at their window.</p><p>Berwald would always be there, and in the end that was the most important thing.</p><p>How those days dragged then, with so much excitement and hope resting there upon Timo's shoulders. Berwald was always tapping his cane on some surface, impatiently, as Ludwig practically writhed on the floor. Lukas had acquired a good pile of Swedish books from town, and liked to sit now cross-legged on the floor in the living room and read to kill time. With his wrestling partner suddenly worn out and reading, with Berwald in no shape, Ludwig found himself with far too much pent up energy.</p><p>Was about to combust.</p><p>Drove him crazy, sitting there and staring out of the window and waiting to see Timo coming up to the door. Ludwig had already dusted the entire house on six separate occasions, had scrubbed the floors and cleaned the windows, had taken a cloth and wiped down all of the walls, as Berwald stared holes through him from above his paper, and sometimes during his cleaning frenzies Lukas would murmur to Berwald in Norwegian, and Berwald would snort.</p><p>Knew they were laughing at him, but boredom was high, and impatience was higher.</p><p>What was taking Timo so long?</p><p>Ah—it had only been eleven days. Timo had said a couple of weeks. Had a good leeway of a few more days before Ludwig went entirely insane.</p><p>At the crack of dawn, Ludwig took to jogging through the small town, so that he wouldn't spontaneously combust or start tormenting Berwald. If he scrubbed that floor any more, he was probably going to fall right through it. He did come back from a jog one morning to a locked front door, and after he angrily banged on it for a while, Lukas opened up just a crack and hung there in the frame, assaulting Ludwig with question after question about Norse mythology to see if he had really been listening all those longs hours Lukas had lectured him.</p><p>Needless to say, Ludwig had flunked, miserably, Lukas had slammed the door in his face and locked him out, and Ludwig had tapped on the bedroom window until a sleep-shocked Berwald opened the curtains. But Berwald, no better than Lukas really, just stared at him through the glass for a while, pretending that he couldn't hear what Ludwig was saying, and left him out in the cold for a good half hour.</p><p>They made their own breakfast that morning.</p><p>Days passed.</p><p>On the fifteenth day, Ludwig climbed up on a rickety, wobbly chair to swipe at a few straggling cobwebs, and Lukas had scared the hell out of him by coming up behind him and grabbing him around the waist. Ludwig had damn near shrieked, thinking he was about to break his neck, as Lukas grunted and hoisted him up and then set him rather primly back down on the floor. Very unfazed by Ludwig chewing his ear off, Lukas turned to Berwald in the kitchen and called, so happily, "Berwald, I just saved your housewife from certain death. Thank me later."</p><p>Berwald poked his head out of the kitchen, as Ludwig's face burned red and Lukas wandered off, and Berwald had looked Ludwig up and down and sneered in what was obviously satisfaction. Sure enough, Berwald had uttered, "Be careful, honey. You're no good to me dead."</p><p>The blush deepened, and Ludwig crankily threw his dust rag in Berwald's face. Tried to get back at him that night, meant to give him hell, but funnily enough it turned out that Berwald actually didn't mind too much when Ludwig pinned his wrists down and straddled him. Come to think, he smirked the whole time. Damn. In hindsight, it may not have been the best way to get back at a man.</p><p>...everyone had too much pent up energy.</p><p>Ah, <em>Timo</em>! Hurry up.</p><p>Couldn't wait to tackle Magnus upon his return and bruise the hell out of him. Someone had to bear the brunt of this overload of emotion.</p><p>Seventeen days.</p><p>And then it came. Seventeen long, miserable days, and the thing that Ludwig had been desperately waiting for finally happened. Everything he had wanted and hoped for.</p><p>The end of their journey.</p><p>Magnus and Timo finally came back, bringing with them that promise of turning it in and going home. Home. Everything he had searched for, for years. Everything Berwald had never had.</p><p>They came back.</p><p>It had been a quiet, content day so far. Rather subdued. Tranquil.</p><p>Berwald had been smiling that day, all day long, humming frequently and watching the snow falling from the kitchen table. It was windy that day. The snow had fallen harder and harder as the hours had passed, but spirits had been so high. Everyone was so happy. Nothing but good things to look forward to after this.</p><p>The sun went down. The fireplace was roaring away. The crackle of embers. Ludwig lied on the sofa, curled on his side as Berwald sat in the chair in the corner, flexing his leg. Their eyes met frequently, contentedly, and Berwald was still smiling. Lukas sat on his now frequent spot on the floor, cross-legged and reading a book, enjoying this time to relax. Ludwig remembered his socked feet and sweater, his gentle humming as he read to himself, the wind howling outside.</p><p>The hour grew late. Ludwig drifted in and out in front of the fire as the storm kept on outside. Close to midnight by then—time to go to bed. Ludwig sat up, stretched his arms over his head as Berwald sleepily gazed at him, and then stood up.</p><p>When he opened his mouth, he stopped short, because there was a sound.</p><p>The jingle of the doorknob, as it was turned.</p><p>All of them looked up at the same time, ears and eyes alert as they held their breath and waited. Berwald bristled up as if shocked, reached out to grab his cane and prepared to pull himself to his feet. Lukas shut his book, lifted his chin, and was smiling. Ludwig turned to face the door, tensed up and braced and ready to rush forward and tackle the both of them to the ground.</p><p>Everyone was ready to go <em>home</em>. To stop fighting.</p><p>The door began to push open, and Ludwig took a step forward, fully ready to pounce and kiss Timo on the lips the second he walked through that door. To grab him and say, '<em>Thank </em>you.'</p><p>'Thank you for letting us <em>stop</em>.'</p><p>'Thank you for letting us go home.'</p><p>'Thank you for letting us all be together at last.'</p><p>Together.</p><p>Berwald pulled himself upright, and looked almost excited. Had never seen Berwald excited before that moment. Oh—had so many things he wanted to <em>say</em> to Timo, so many, his head was a jumbled mess. The end of their war at last. They had followed Timo for years, and Timo was repaying them. Their compass, who had dragged them endlessly across the map and would now direct them true north, to home.</p><p>This passage of time was incredibly profound to Ludwig, and for that it felt rather surreal, as if it were passing before his eyes in slow motion. It was truly the beginning of their new lives, and for that Ludwig experienced it with heightened senses.</p><p>Ludwig would never forget that exact moment in time for the rest of his life.</p><p>A glint of blond, whipping in the furious wind, as the door pushed open the rest of the way and someone staggered in. Must have been exhausted, the poor things, over two weeks away like that. Ludwig took a step forward, and realized it was Magnus that had come in.</p><p>His gait was odd, uneven, clumsy. Nothing too new, honestly, because Magnus had always been a bit of a klutz. Ludwig waited for the second head to poke in, but was distracted from looking when he realized that Magnus was walking funny because he carrying something heavy over his shoulder. Didn't see what it was at first, because he was looking behind Magnus yet to catch a glimpse of Timo.</p><p>He was a bit dazed, if he were honest, at the rush of sentiments he felt at being able to go home. Time may have been dragging, but so was his brain. Overwhelmed in every possible way.</p><p>Lukas' book hit the floor, and he bolted upright so quickly that Ludwig almost didn't see him move at all. Had Lukas seen something? It took a while for his own mind to figure it all out, but Lukas had always been quicker on the trigger.</p><p>Ludwig hadn't seen Timo then, hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of him, because Timo was that heavy thing slung over Magnus' shoulder.</p><p>He was unconscious. Covered in blood.</p><p>That awful silence.</p><p>Magnus looked at them all in turn, whiter than the snow that was drifting down outside, the shadows under his eyes hanging like veils. Exhausted and utterly spent. Magnus looked as if by all rights he shouldn't have been standing at all.</p><p>A low, dazed whisper. Mournful, almost.</p><p>"Hey. Can't you help him? It won't stop bleedin'."</p><p>Ludwig was shocked, above all else, completely shocked, because it was the first time that he had ever seen Timo, resourceful, cunning, quick-footed Timo, looking so damn helpless. The first time he had ever seen anyone bleed like that. The white coat made the blood painfully obvious. The great stain across the back—had never seen so much blood.</p><p>Panic mode set in, hysteria, and everyone was rushing, quick to help, ready to take over and save the life of their comrade as they had several times before. They knew by now what to do, so—</p><p>Only, when Ludwig glanced around, he realized that nobody was rushing at all.</p><p>In fact, no one aside from Lukas had even moved.</p><p>He himself was deathly still, and Berwald, wobbling and unsteady, looked very much like he had been stabbed but made no motion. They weren't rushing, weren't hectic and harried, and Ludwig couldn't really comprehend at first why they just stood there. Why they were so frozen in dread. Why they choked, when Timo needed them the most. Why that voice in the back of his head was whispering.</p><p>As if...</p><p>They stood there.</p><p>Lukas bounded forward, snatched Timo right off of Magnus' shoulder, and set him carefully upon the floor. Magnus clung stubbornly the entire while to Timo's coat, and was a bit of an obstacle to Lukas as Lukas attempted to get a clear view of Timo. As if Magnus didn't want to let go, but Lukas shoved him backwards, as Timo had once shoved Ludwig. Like Timo, Lukas was always collected, always levelheaded and sure, and once again Ludwig was envious of that, because he couldn't get his feet moving.</p><p>The front of Timo's coat was as soaked with blood as the back, and Ludwig could see the awful, pallid shade of Timo's skin. Ashy. So pale and wan. Almost grey; Ludwig didn't need to be the one touching Timo to know that he must have been ice-cold to the touch, from so much blood loss and from being exposed to the freezing air. His hair was damp with the snow that had fallen into it as Magnus had dragged him back. Oh, Magnus, why had he come here? Why hadn't he gone straight to the hospital? So far away.</p><p>Wait a minute, that didn't make sense—</p><p>The coat was quickly ripped open, Lukas working very urgently and very furiously, as Magnus hovered above him. Magnus was muttering under his breath, watching Lukas' hands as if in a trance. Ludwig knew that he should have gone over to Magnus, should have grabbed him and held him back, should have tried to comfort him.</p><p>Anything.</p><p>But he couldn't really seem to move. Felt like he was stuck in quicksand.</p><p>Magnus finally said something comprehensible, as he looked up at Lukas. His voice was rough, and cracked from the effort of speaking.</p><p>"Help him out, won't'cha? Like...like we did before."</p><p>Timo needed help alright, that was absolutely certain, because he had bled so much, so much. Blood everywhere. Everything was red.</p><p>But not bright red. Not crimson. Instead, dull. Rust-colored. Faded and oxidized.</p><p>Old.</p><p>Where had Magnus come from? How long had he been hauling Timo around, unconscious and helpless? Why hadn't he gone to the hospital? They had been so far away, Christ, Magnus had to have taken at least a day or two to get here, and it didn't make sense that he hadn't gone to the closest field hospital. Had something happened along the way back? A roadblock maybe, that had gone wrong as Ludwig's had, and Magnus had had no choice but to come here?</p><p>Magnus was soaked with blood, too, but it was obviously Timo's, after having him over his shoulder like that for god only knew how long. That horrible color. It wasn't the sight of the blood itself but rather the <em>color </em>of it that had Ludwig's stomach dropping in horror.</p><p>Beneath them, Lukas, the only functional one, searched up and down Timo's abdomen for the entrance wound. His eyes were wide, his brow was low, his jaw was clenched tight and his pulse was hammering. Had never seen Lukas look like that before. Had never seen Lukas look panicked, but, god, did he ever then. Lukas was clearly pumped full of adrenaline then, and it was alarming.</p><p>Berwald was standing there as immobilized as Ludwig, so pale that he had gone beyond white; a sickly shade of yellow. His hands were trembling. Ludwig remembered looking down. So were his.</p><p>Timo didn't move the entire time that Lukas was prodding him over.</p><p>Magnus stared silently at Lukas as he worked, and finally spoke again. Barely.</p><p>"He needs blood. You know, like... Like we did before. We did it before."</p><p>From his side, Ludwig could see that Berwald had come out of his trance, if only a little, to reach down and, absurdly, roll up his right sleeve. As if he were ready to stride forward and say, 'I'll give him mine!' To save Timo now, as Magnus had once saved Ludwig. Giving back.</p><p>It seemed like the obvious answer. They <em>had </em>done it before. Rebels and soldiers alike did it all the time. Yet...</p><p>The strange silence in the room was steadily roaring up into an inescapable terror, and somehow, someway, it was obvious to all of them except poor Magnus that stabbing a needle into Timo's arm wasn't going to do any good. Ludwig couldn't say how he knew, except for perhaps that awful silence. That horrible sinking. A ship, overcome by a great wave. Silence had never once been so miserable. The color of that blood.</p><p>Lukas ripped open Timo's shirt, then, and Timo's pale skin was exposed to the air. Smudges of red. Smeared, dried blood all over. It didn't take Lukas long to find what he sought.</p><p>The wound was visible. A small bullet-hole in the abdomen, above the liver. Such a small thing, that caused so much destruction.</p><p>And yet, despite Magnus' odd rambling, that wound wasn't bleeding anymore. It had stopped. But Ludwig had known that already, just by the color. All of the blood staining Timo was old.</p><p>...well, wait, then, why had it stopped bleeding?</p><p>The horror was ever mounting, and something in the back of Ludwig's mind was screaming at him, telling him exactly what was wrong, and he could hear it loud and clear even though he refused to believe it.</p><p>He couldn't believe it.</p><p>Wouldn't.</p><p>Even though Timo just laid there, even though the bleeding had stopped, even though he knew, he <em>knew</em>, he fuckin' knew, he wouldn't believe it.</p><p>Something shifted in Lukas' gaze, something terrible, a look he'd never seen on calm Lukas' face. A darkness in his wide eyes, no sound from his open mouth, and when his brow scrunched and his eyes narrowed and he looked, for a moment, as if he was actually going to start <em>crying</em>, it was harder to ignore it. When Lukas had to shake his head to try and get it together, it was all but obvious.</p><p>Ludwig knew, long before Lukas gathered back his composure and lifted his hand up to Timo's neck. Somehow, he'd known from the very moment Magnus had walked in through that door.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Never had there been such a silence. It sucked all of the air from the room.</p><p>He couldn't breathe.</p><p>And then—Ludwig would never forget—Lukas looked up at Magnus with obvious and abject <em>horror </em>and asked, breathlessly and thinly, high-pitched and almost a shriek, "Magnus, how long has he been dead? <em>For Christ's sake</em>—how long have you been <em>carryin' </em>him like this?"</p><p>That silence.</p><p>Whooshing in his ears.</p><p>It felt very much like a dream, like some surreal out of body experience, and Ludwig could only stand there, hearing and seeing and very much aware, and yet somehow feeling so far away. It didn't seem real. Couldn't be real.</p><p>It wasn't real, it wasn't, couldn't be, because it had been the last time and Timo had promised that they were all going home together. They were all here now, all of them, and there would be no more fighting. It should have been alright. What was so wrong with this picture? Why wasn't it all coming together as it should have? Something was amiss, just couldn't get his mind working.</p><p>The five of them together, in the same room, and they were going home—</p><p>Couldn't <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>Magnus raised his eyes up to Lukas, and he looked angry then, looked offended in some way, and after a second of hesitation, he muttered, stubbornly, "No, no, he's not—I was checkin' on the way. I was. You idiot. What are ya talkin' about? He's not—"</p><p>The muttering trailed off.</p><p>Magnus, to prove Lukas wrong, had leaned down to place two fingers on Timo's neck, and Magnus had fallen silent because something was amiss. Magnus trailed off because something had startled him.</p><p><em>Oh</em>, Timo looked like he coulda been sleepin', if not for the smudges of blood on his cheek and neck.</p><p>Magnus furrowed his brow, sat still for a second, and then he suddenly wrenched his hand back as if Timo had burned him. Another long, awful silence. Magnus stared down, incomprehension clearly written there upon his face. Hadn't clicked in his head, as much as it wasn't clicking in Ludwig's. Looked so confused and lost, dazed and scared and bewildered. It took a while for Magnus to move again, and then there was a great inhale as Magnus lurched forward, raising a shaking hand and pressing his fingers back into Timo's neck.</p><p>He searched again. And again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Mumbling incomprehensibly to himself and shifting his weight when one leg went numb, he raised and lowered his fingers all over Timo's pale neck, searching relentlessly for something that just wasn't there. Stubborn.</p><p>Timo didn't move, and everyone knew why. Everyone except Magnus, who kept on switching between putting his fingers on Timo's neck and then resting a palm atop his breast. Lukas reached forward with the intention of stopping him. Irritably, Magnus slapped his hand away, and kept on searching. He kept at it for what felt like hours, slapping Lukas away each time Lukas tried to intervene.</p><p>Berwald collapsed suddenly, down to one knee and then onto his backside, the cane falling to the floor. The clatter of it seemed so loud against that awful silence. Wood on wood. The fireplace was still crackling. The wind outside still howling. Seemed dull and faraway, as if Ludwig were watching everything unfold before him from behind a veil.</p><p>The clock ticked, and Magnus kept on running his fingers over Timo's neck.</p><p>Lukas had fallen onto his backside in a near perfect imitation of Berwald, palms running over his face and into his hair and back down, as Lukas seemed at a loss for what to do.</p><p>Ludwig was the only one standing, and that was only because he was too damn dumb to really even comprehend what was going on around him. Like Magnus, Ludwig had yet to accept reality, had yet to understand.</p><p>But then Magnus fell fully down onto his knees, his hands dropped down to his sides, and he suddenly lifted his head, took his eyes from Timo, and looked them all over. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Magnus just sat there, and looked around at them as though he really didn't even recognize them. Strangers, in a way, and Ludwig felt that way, too.</p><p>Magnus spoke then, quietly, for the last time that night.</p><p>All he said was, "I was checking on the way. I was."</p><p>Had he? Did Magnus even know where he was right now? What was happening? Had he checked at all or just pretended? In that daze, maybe Magnus had just held Timo there over his shoulder, and convinced himself that it was Timo's heartbeat he felt rather than his own.</p><p>Magnus fell still, turned his eyes back down to Timo, and didn't move again.</p><p>Lost.</p><p>And Ludwig could <em>see </em>him, then, up in his head.</p><p>Could envision everything so clearly, could see it plain as day there up in his mind, as if he were witnessing it.</p><p>Trees and snow.</p><p>He could see Magnus running forward the second that Timo cried out and fell, he could see Magnus putting pressure on the wound as Timo had no doubt reassured him that everything would be alright, as Timo always did because Timo was unshakeable. But Magnus wasn't, and he could see Magnus blubbering and bursting into tears as he picked heavy Timo up and tried to cart him out of the line of fire, and he could see Magnus dragging Timo back to civilization.</p><p>A trail of red against the white snow.</p><p>Could see Timo smiling over at Magnus prettily, as he sometimes still did in the right mood, calmly and happily, because Timo had come to terms with everything and was ready to love Magnus the way Magnus loved him. Timo was ready to go home, as they all were. Timo had given all of his time and energy to Finland, his life entire, and was now ready to start living for himself.</p><p>Could see Timo unable to walk anymore, and Magnus picking him up, still bawling away, trying to find his way through trees that all looked the same behind the blur of tears. Getting mixed up and twisting in a circle, breathing through his mouth as he tried so hard to find his way, because so <em>much </em>was at stake.</p><p>He could see Timo, carried over Magnus' shoulder, starting to go out of focus and whispering strange things, and he could see Magnus picking up the pace, trying to get back before it was too late. Timo clenching fistfuls of Magnus' coat and telling him perhaps, for the very first time, that he loved him. He could see them finally reaching a safe zone hours later. He could see men coming forward to take Timo from Magnus and set him on the ground. He could see the men looking over Timo as Lukas had, and then shaking their heads.</p><p>He could see the light of comprehension going out in Magnus' eyes, as Magnus took Timo from them with harsh words and harsher hands. Refusal to believe. Stubbornness overriding logic. Reality didn't fit into Magnus' expectations, and so he had just changed it in his head as he always had, to fit his narrative and to make him see the world in the way he wanted it. Could see him taking Timo from the Estonians and cursing them, slinging Timo once more over his shoulder and pretending, even then, that Timo could be helped if someone would just take the time to listen.</p><p>He could see Magnus putting Timo in the backseat of the car. He could see Magnus driving as fast as he could to people he knew would <em>help </em>instead of say crazy things, and he could see Magnus turning his head over the seat, reassuring a very still Timo that he would get him there in time. Could see Magnus swerving sometimes, because he was crying still and couldn't see the road.</p><p>Reaching home, and trying so hard to hold on to the fragments of his imaginary world.</p><p>How many hours had Magnus passed in that crazed, irrational daze, really truly thinking that Timo was still alive? It was such a long trip. It had to have taken him twenty hours or so, between the walking and the driving and finding his way around without Timo to guide him, as Timo always had before.</p><p>Magnus had to have known, somewhere deep down. Just couldn't face it. Couldn't accept it. Refused to accept that outcome, because at last Magnus had had something within his grasp that he had desperately wanted.</p><p>Denial had always been Magnus' best friend, even more than Ludwig.</p><p>He could see Magnus slinging Timo over his shoulder again once they reached the town, and starting the trek up to the house, to the door.</p><p><em> Hoping</em>.</p><p>Hoping that these men that Magnus called 'brothers' would listen to him, would take him seriously, would do something, anything, other than just shake their heads. That Lukas would be on Magnus' side, as he always had been, and lend Timo aid. That Ludwig would have Magnus' back, as he always had, and lend Timo support. That Berwald, if nothing else, would at least help Timo because Berwald had once loved him, and lend Timo blood.</p><p>Magnus had come to them because no one else would bend to his distorted reality.</p><p>But they couldn't either this time.</p><p>Lukas was silent, Ludwig was immobilized, and Berwald was a heap on the floor.</p><p>Timo was quiet, and Magnus had trusted them.</p><p>Magnus was dripping blood on the floor, clearly had been wounded in some way himself, and Lukas, the only one with any semblance of clarity left, finally unburied his face, sat up, and tried to check him, but couldn't get close to him because Magnus shoved him back.</p><p>Wasn't all there, Magnus.</p><p>Lukas tried again to creep in and get to Timo, perhaps to try to get him out of Magnus' sights, in the hope that it would wake Magnus up, and Magnus once more lashed out and slapped him away. They couldn't get over, as Magnus held a silent vigil over still Timo and would let none of them near. Looked betrayed, almost, that they weren't <em>helping</em>. That they hadn't cooperated with Magnus' ultimate plan. That they hadn't lived up to the expectations Magnus had set for them on that long trip back. That they weren't aligning with Magnus' imaginary world. That they couldn't bring Timo back and place him neatly in Magnus' arms, where he always had been before.</p><p>The Estonians hadn't told Magnus what he had wanted to hear, and so Magnus had trusted <em>them </em>to tell him something different, because they were brothers and always helped each other. Always had, for years. Magnus had waited for them to tell him that everything was going to be alright; that they couldn't give Magnus what he wanted was harrowing.</p><p>Letting Magnus down in the worst possible way.</p><p>Ludwig came abruptly and furiously out of his immobility at long last and fled outside then, sat down on the back porch, and burst into tears.</p><p>Magnus just sat there on his knees all night, arms limp at his sides and shoulders low, and stared at Timo until the sun began to tint the cloudy horizon pink. He didn't move.</p><p>The war went on outside, but their war had ended.</p><p>They had lost.</p><p>In Ludwig's dreams, the five of them had always been together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Ride This Train</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 28</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Ride This Train</strong>
</p><p>It was quiet these days.</p><p>Hours passed in blurs and dull colors. Lethargy.</p><p>The town mourned. It wasn't their town in Finland, but these men here knew Timo, too, him and his friend, and now the other had fallen. Those men, the ones that they had all protected in these great forests, took over everything.</p><p>For the best, because they were all too damn stupefied to do anything. They had all shut down in their own ways. Berwald sat on the couch beside of Lukas, and they just stared at the floor for hours. Ludwig sat beside of Magnus at the kitchen table, arm over Magnus' shoulders as Magnus gazed off ahead at the wall.</p><p>Silence, perpetual and thick.</p><p>The Estonians had patched Magnus up, because he had been shot too, in the arm and had been grazed on his side. Magnus didn't even notice, really, and had just stared at the wall as he had been stitched up. Hadn't even twitched or glanced. They had only gotten their hands on Timo when Magnus had fallen over unconscious from exhaustion and misery and blood loss. Magnus had woken up, looked around, and just hadn't really come back. Didn't seem to know where he was.</p><p>No one had spoken a single word to each other.</p><p>As it had been every other time Timo had been gone, Ludwig slept in Magnus' bed. Just a little different this time; Magnus didn't cling to Ludwig and worry endlessly, tossing and turning. Rather, Magnus just lied there and stared at the ceiling, and it was Ludwig who rested on his side, arm thrown over Magnus' chest. Magnus didn't move at all. Didn't say a word. He clenched one of Timo's shirts in his hands and held it atop his stomach.</p><p>When dawn broke, Magnus sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and then he just sat there and stared at the wall, Timo's shirt gripped in his fingers.</p><p>Lukas came in, and shooed Ludwig away, taking charge of Magnus so that Ludwig could rest. He and Lukas took turns, trying so hard to keep Magnus' head above the water, and Berwald sat at the kitchen table, arms folded above and face buried. Ludwig stood there above him, knew he should have done something, said something, but just—</p><p>Couldn't. Didn't know what to <em>do</em>.</p><p>So he just stood there and stared at Berwald, as Berwald's shoulders shook, and then he wandered off and sat outside.</p><p>No one spoke at all. No one ate. Just drifting about aimlessly, lost and dazed and confused.</p><p>Ha...</p><p>Timo was the navigator, the compass, the leader. How could he have just left them like that? The jerk; didn't he know how much everyone needed him? Didn't he know how lost they were without him? How scared? Didn't he fuckin' care?</p><p>Anger and bitterness, under the lull.</p><p>Two days after Magnus had walked through the door, the men gathered together and built up a great pyre. Many of these Nordic rebels viewed cremation as more glorious in some way than burial, for whatever reasons. Supposed the notion of going up in flames was far more exciting to them than just being tossed under the dirt.</p><p>Who cared?</p><p>Timo was dead—nothing else mattered. Ludwig was as angry at Timo on that pyre as he would have been had he been underground, was just as mad at him, was just as devastated and lost, so who cared? Let them do they wanted.</p><p>No one in the house cared at all, and just watched without a word.</p><p>Ludwig was so <em>mad</em> at Timo, <em>so</em> mad. Felt betrayed and lied to in some way. Had put so much faith into Timo, had relied so much upon him, and had followed Timo blindly for years, wherever he had led. Years of devotion and loyalty, and how had Timo repaid him?</p><p>Misery.</p><p>The town gathered around the pyre at the edge of the forest, and Berwald, funnily enough, was the only one standing. A silent sentinel as he always had been, watching over the pyre dutifully. Easy to see that he was crying, but it hardly mattered because he looked so untouchable in that moment. Had pulled himself together, had found that sense of leadership he had once had, for just that one day. When everyone else failed, Berwald stepped up.</p><p>The fire started easily.</p><p>Magnus sat on a log, back to the fire, and Ludwig and Lukas sat on either side of him. They didn't watch, either, leaving Berwald alone.</p><p>Could feel the heat of the fire on his back, and couldn't bring himself to look over his shoulder.</p><p>Magnus just sat there, like always, and even though the light of the flames lit up his face in that one brief second he glanced back, nothing else about him had seemed to light up since then. Lost, somewhere.</p><p>Timo's shirt was ever clenched up in his hands. Carried it everywhere.</p><p>The Estonians weren't exactly solemn in their mourning. They were rather rowdy, loud and vociferous, many of them drinking and toasting the fire, and even though Ludwig knew that Timo was a hero and elicited those sentiments even now, somehow it hurt. Timo would have loved this, would have enjoyed these drunken men giving him speeches, but Ludwig was so sick still about it that he bolted upright and ran over to the edge of the trees to throw up.</p><p>Burst into tears immediately after, and stayed there in the shadows, hidden away as Lukas held Magnus upright and Berwald stared into the flames as if entranced.</p><p>Several hours later, Lukas stood up, dragged Magnus to his feet, and walked him back home. Ludwig followed. Berwald came home much later that night, and went straight into the kitchen, and pulled down a bottle of vodka with shaking hands. Sat there at the table and drank himself into a stupor, crying in intervals, and Lukas joined him halfway through. Ludwig sat on the couch and stared into the fireplace, and just saw Timo there burning.</p><p>The fire burned all night.</p><p>The next morning, there was a knock on the door.</p><p>Lukas opened it, and there was a man there, holding something out. Low words. Lukas reached out, and his hand fell still halfway in hesitation. Lukas froze up, choked, and Ludwig was distressed by that, and more so by that awful crinkle of Lukas' brow.</p><p>The man held out a little pouch. Ludwig knew, somehow, what it was. Lukas stared at it for a long damn time before he finally reached out and took it, clenching it up and holding it to his chest for a moment. Ludwig turned his eyes away, and focused on Magnus there beside of him.</p><p>Berwald was still passed out in the bedroom.</p><p>Lukas sat down at the table, set that little pouch there down upon it, and just stared at it as if it had crept up out of hell right before him. Stared and stared, and Ludwig could see him swallowing, how heavily he was breathing. The crease in his forehead.</p><p>Magnus, ever oblivious to anything going on around them, was silent and still.</p><p>When Berwald came into consciousness later on, after he had vomited and cried a little more, they all sat down at the table, and looked around at each other. Magnus had been put away in the bedroom to avoid any unnecessary duress.</p><p>But now what?</p><p>God—was this really all that was left? One of his brothers, his countryman, his partner, his friend. The one whose back he had always had and who had had his in turn. The one, really, who had saved him in the very beginning. The one who had let him stay. The only one in the beginning who had looked at him and saw a friend rather than an enemy. Each one of these men were unique to Ludwig, meant different things to him, all of equal import but in different ways, and Timo was Ludwig's cornerstone, always had been. If not for Timo, on several occasions, Ludwig wouldn't be here right now. Was that all there was now, that little pile of ashes? Unfathomable.</p><p>All five of them, together again...</p><p>Worthless sentiments.</p><p>Berwald blearily glowered at the pouch, and Ludwig could see then that he wasn't the only one that was angry with Timo.</p><p>Lukas lifted his head at last, looked them over, and uttered, "Well. Here we are. So...what are we going to do?"</p><p>The first any of them had spoken at all.</p><p>Lukas' voice had cracked, broken. A first.</p><p>What could they really do?</p><p>Timo's ashes sat before them, and the question now was of what to do with them. Magnus and Lukas had wanted to go into the sea. Ludwig, the black forest. Only Timo and Berwald had never voiced their preferences. None of them had ever asked Timo, and Timo had never wanted to say it. All they could do was guess. The two things Timo had loved more than anything were Finland and Magnus. Hard to say which he had loved the most, towards the end anyway.</p><p>Finland.</p><p>It was obvious, and Ludwig met Lukas' eyes, and said, gruffly, "You know where he'd wanna be."</p><p>Lukas just nodded, and said nothing more.</p><p>Berwald scoffed, stood up, and staggered out of the kitchen to throw himself down on the sofa.</p><p>It had to be that way, didn't it. Owed Timo that.</p><p>Oh, how inexplicably and miserably devastating it was, to have Timo save him, so many times, and to have been unable to do the same. To owe his life to a man that had lost his own, away from home and friends and brothers.</p><p>No words for that guilt.</p><p>He owed Timo his life, and therefore he would get Timo to Finland, one way or another. At the risk of his life, he'd see Timo home for the last time.</p><p>He and Lukas were left alone, and Ludwig asked, against that clutch of his throat that was constant, "Should we wait for the war to end? It won't be long."</p><p>Lukas stared off ahead at the wall blankly, keeping his composure as usual, and thoughtfully murmured, "No. The sooner, the better I think. We don't know if Finland will be...annexed, after the treaty."</p><p>Lukas had paused, faltered, and Ludwig understood because somehow, even then, it felt so disrespectful and almost frightening to speak of the possibility of the Soviet Union annexing Finland after the war, with Timo there. ...in whatever manner. The thought of Finland becoming part of the USSR, after Timo had worked so hard.</p><p>As hard to stomach as anything else, and maybe even Lukas felt that, too.</p><p>Lukas inhaled, gathered his will and nerve and bravery, and met Ludwig's eyes.</p><p>"Let's go, then. You and me."</p><p>Ludwig nodded, with no hesitation, because it was the right thing to do.</p><p>Timo...</p><p>He'd had so much he had wanted to say.</p><p>Ludwig looked over his shoulder; Berwald was still glaring into the fireplace, Magnus was put away, and there was never going to be a time that could be considered 'good'. So he stood up, and said, weakly, "Let's go see who can help us."</p><p>Lukas took much longer to stand, but trudged out the door all the same, without even bothering to pull on his coat. They walked down the drive, into the small town, and fell still, looking this way and that.</p><p>Some little village in the middle of Estonia. No one there they knew, not really. People knew them, but they knew no one, and that feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Isolated and frightened.</p><p>This was Timo's job, always had been, that bastard—</p><p>Ludwig took an unsteady step to the left, another, and walked up to a man who was carrying a heavy bag over his shoulder.</p><p>He tried, quietly, "Excuse me, sir, can you help us—"</p><p>The man shook his head, speaking back to him in Estonian, and Ludwig turned his eyes down to the road. He swallowed, feeling the alarming threat of collapse. When he looked over his shoulder, it was somehow worse to see Lukas.</p><p>He stood there in the middle of the street in his thin shirt, uncombed hair whipping in the wind, eyes heavy and tired, the circles beneath so dark, and everything about Lukas just looked so entirely vulnerable then. Never had he seen Lukas like that; he wasn't looking at a deer then, so much as a lost fawn.</p><p>Lukas glanced around, helplessly, looking so <em>lost</em>, turning this way and that as he sought out something he couldn't pinpoint, and for the first time that Ludwig had ever seen, Lukas suddenly slumped. Completely and utterly slumped, as he looked around back and forth, and then he inhaled, shakily, and said, "I don't know what to <em>do</em>."</p><p>His voice was nothing Ludwig had ever heard. Some other man's voice, because he had never once heard that. Deep and rough, the furthest thing from silky, breaking, shaking. Ludwig imagined that that voice was very much what <em>he </em>sounded like when he was breaking down, and that was terrifying. Didn't know if that was Lukas' real voice, if the silvery one had merely been part of his wartime façade.</p><p>Killed Ludwig to hear it all the same.</p><p>Lukas squinted his eyes and his head hung for just a moment, and Ludwig was so scared that Lukas was really going to burst into tears. Wouldn't know what to do, because it didn't seem like something that was even possible. Felt as if seeing Lukas really cry would be the end of the world. Ludwig looked to Lukas to be impervious. Couldn't handle him breaking down. Lukas was the only one then that had any semblance of composure, and they needed him to stay that way.</p><p>A long, awful second of blinking, swallowing, quick breathing, and then Lukas mercifully pulled himself back together and lifted his head.</p><p>The dam held ever strong.</p><p>Lukas persevered, carried on, found his way, and eventually found an Estonian who spoke Swedish. They fumbled their way from there, feeling swept out to sea, navigating for the first time without their lighthouse.</p><p>In the dark.</p><p>The next day, they had gotten it enough together, and had their boat ready to go at their call. They'd be going entirely alone, just him and Lukas—no Estonian considered this particular mission worth the risk, and Ludwig knew he shouldn't have taken it personally but he did. Took it as some personal attack on Timo in a way, irrational though it was. He was <em>furious </em>at them, had cursed them very loudly and very angrily, and it was lucky for them perhaps that Ludwig hadn't been understood.</p><p>So angry—</p><p>It was worth the risk, and Ludwig had been so angry that he had cried on the way back home. Seemed he was always crying these days, over something or another. Hadn't felt this helpless and claustrophobic since that rainy night long ago.</p><p>A new venture.</p><p>Magnus stayed behind, and Berwald stayed with him. Up to Berwald, of all people, to keep Magnus afloat until they would return. Ludwig and Lukas called this trip theirs, and would go back into Finland, whatever the risk. Timo would have done it for any one of them. Berwald's words that day long ago, that they would have gotten Ludwig back to the black forest no matter what—it was the right thing to do. Even if Ludwig was furious with Timo, he still loved him under it all, and would go.</p><p>Actually leaving, though, was a bit more of an ordeal.</p><p>Standing before Berwald yet again, after promising to never again leave; felt like a liar, in a way, felt horrendous and guilty, and had tried to sputter explanations as Lukas had pulled on his coat and tucked that pouch carefully into his lucky backpack.</p><p>Berwald just interrupted rambling Ludwig, to say, "I know why you're going. Ya don't haveta tell me. Go."</p><p>Berwald reached out with his left hand and rested it on Ludwig's face.</p><p>In a reversal of their last farewell, it was Ludwig that time who started crying, yet again, as Berwald just stared at him calmly.</p><p>That time, instead of trying to stop him, Berwald lifted Ludwig's chin up, met his bleary eyes, and said, very deeply, "You know everything I wanna say."</p><p>Ludwig's eyes squinted, his face utterly collapsed, and he could only nod against Berwald's hand.</p><p>Was so sick of crying, so sick of it, always felt so nauseous and nothing ever made it go away. Maybe that was why he went, too, in some desperate attempt to find a little peace, a little closure, something.</p><p>Anything.</p><p>He finished his farewell, kissed despondent Magnus on the forehead, and gathered up his things. He tucked his new identification into his wallet, sniveling still, and kept it safe. Timo's final gift to him. Ludwig would hold onto it for eternity.</p><p>Time to go. Again.</p><p>They set out at sunset, followed the Estonian to the boat, and began the journey.</p><p>Ludwig kept telling himself that he would never more get into a boat, and yet found himself time and time again disobeying himself.</p><p>This time, when Ludwig threw up, he wasn't sure if it was from seasickness or heartsickness. Felt so strangely and desperately <em>homesick</em>, and didn't know for what. Something he couldn't grasp onto, something intangible.</p><p>Homesick for Timo, maybe, and knowing he would never see him again.</p><p>Couldn't come to terms, trying so hard to cling yet to denial and constantly thwarted by everything around him.</p><p>The very long journey to Finland was terrifying, made more so by the fact that they were essentially blind. Neither him nor Lukas were exactly navigators, and the compass was the only thing that kept them from going in circles. Ludwig felt very lost, whatever that compass said, and when the dark black outline of a forest became visible on the distant waves, Lukas exhaled in relief.</p><p>Hitting shore was a rather mixed event for Ludwig. Was relieved that he could do something for Timo, even if it meant nothing in the end, and yet it was also a painful blow to his pretending. Hard to sit there and pretend that Timo was just still out and would come back, when they were in Finland and holding something they had no right to be holding.</p><p>They stepped into the trees, walked a while, and when Lukas knelt down and removed his backpack, Ludwig turned his eyes to the forest, lit up in the pink light of breaking dawn.</p><p>He didn't want to look when Lukas opened the pouch, but had no choice.</p><p>Had there ever been a more ghastly sensation, in enemy territory, in a great dark forest, spreading the ashes of their fallen comrade? Wasn't right, nothing about this was right, and it shouldn't have happened. They shouldn't have been there, but they were, and Ludwig watched as Lukas murmured under his breath.</p><p>Dust.</p><p>Timo had gone back to Finland. That was the important thing, really. Where he had always been, in some way, and Ludwig hoped somehow that the land itself knew that its greatest hero had returned. Truly how he felt about Timo. Hurt like hell that no one would ever know it. That there would never be statues of Timo in every Finnish city. Had earned that and more, and no one knew. That was the most difficult thing for Ludwig to swallow those days, really. Just Timo being another number on a paper. Fading into obscurity. That no one would remember him outside of this household.</p><p>That <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>Timo's name should have been plastered everywhere, and no one would ever know it at all.</p><p>Oblivion, obscurity, and for someone that had burned so bright.</p><p>This was what their years of fighting had come down to, to be nameless specks of dust in a greater world that wasn't even aware of them. Looking around then at that vast forest, Ludwig felt small and meaningless, defeated.</p><p>Pointless.</p><p>They had pressed their luck too many times. They had gotten overconfident. They had thought themselves invincible. So many times they'd stared death in the face. So many times they had come out victorious.</p><p>They'd pushed too far.</p><p>Lukas settled up against a huge tree, Ludwig sat beside of him, and they rested against each other, trying to sleep and pass the daylight hours in merciful dreams. Hardly worked, either of them waking up in fright at every little sound, and by the time night came again they were spent and cranky.</p><p>When they trekked back to the boat and boarded, Ludwig looked over his shoulder.</p><p>That feeling he had then...</p><p>Leaving behind Finland forever, and knowing, despite his denial, that he was also leaving behind something he would never have again. Someone. Losing forever something entirely unique, something that no one else could ever replicate, something that would never again cross their paths.</p><p>Someone was missing, and always would be.</p><p>He looked over his shoulder then not at Finland, but at Timo.</p><p>Getting in the boat was Ludwig's final and ultimate goodbye.</p><p>The journey back was somehow scarier than the trip there, but that could have just been that looming reality over Ludwig's head, always threatening to break through to him at last.</p><p>It became downright terrifying halfway there, however, when they happened across a patrol boat that heard their engine, twisted their light in their direction, and began firing at them after a very long silence.</p><p>Couldn't even see a damn thing.</p><p>Lukas, always quicker to react, grabbed Ludwig's collar and threw him to the bottom of the boat, falling onto his stomach beside of him.</p><p>Terror.</p><p>The splash of water, too nearby, as bullets hit the sea. A thunk, as one hit the stern of the boat and splintered the edge of the wooden seat.</p><p>Lukas reached out, found Ludwig, gripped him, and hissed, "You alright? Huh?"</p><p>"Yeah," he stammered back, so nauseous, as the splashing suddenly stopped.</p><p>No more gunfire.</p><p>The lights in the distance began to fade.</p><p>Ludwig rolled over onto his stomach, grabbed Lukas' coat in his hands, and very frantically asked, "Are you okay? Are you hit?"</p><p>Wouldn't suffer this again—</p><p>"No, I'm— I'm alright. I think."</p><p>The lights by then were far away, and Ludwig sat up at the waist, hauling Lukas up and running hands over him in a panic, aware that he was crying a little but too scared to stop it. Lukas seemed as intent on determining Ludwig's wellbeing, and when they were satisfied that they were both alright and uninjured, they carried on, as quick as they could.</p><p>Too damn close.</p><p>Hitting shore was a goddamn victory. Another hurdle down.</p><p>It said so much about how miserable they were that when Ludwig and Lukas came back, Berwald just looked up from the couch, seemed so relieved, and yet didn't smile. Just closed his eyes and sighed, and Magnus, sitting there beside of Berwald, turned his head to the door, eyes wide and jaw clenched and pulse pounding.</p><p>Oh—no.</p><p>They weren't who Magnus had wanted to see walk in, and that fuckin' hurt, so Ludwig darted quickly past them and threw himself into bed. Couldn't stand that look on Magnus' face, looking at that door like that, as if he really thought someone else would have come walking through.</p><p>And as Ludwig lied there on his stomach on the bed, he realized that he felt as miserable now as he had when he had set out. Felt no better. Felt no relief, no peace of mind.</p><p>Closure?</p><p>Maybe that was a lie, because he didn't feel as if some book had been closed, as if something suddenly was at peace, as if everything now was in order.</p><p>He still just felt <em>sick</em>.</p><p>Timo being back home meant nothing at all, and he realized that now that he was back. It didn't matter at all where Timo's ashes lied, as long as a warm Timo wasn't there next to them. Had been a pointless endeavor, truly, and the Estonians had been right in that it hadn't been worth the risk. He had just been desperate, but stepping into Finland hadn't helped.</p><p>It felt to Ludwig in that moment that it would be this way forever, that there would be no possible way to move forward, that it would never feel any better. Nothing would ever improve, because nothing would ever be the same.</p><p>Lukas must have felt the same way, because Ludwig found him at the kitchen table every night after, putting back glass after glass of whatever alcohol he had been able to get his hands on that day.</p><p>That didn't help, either.</p><p>They were doomed to walk this never-ending path of misery, perhaps; their punishment, for being foolhardy and proud, for failing one of their own, for pretending to be something they weren't.</p><p>Some days passed, and on the last day of March, Lukas came back inside from a trip in town, and said, "We're leaving now."</p><p>Leaving.</p><p>What Lukas should have been able to say was, 'We're going home.'</p><p>It didn't feel that way anymore. Couldn't say 'time to go home', because unless they were all together there was no home to be had. Just another house that didn't feel right. Something missing, as it always had been for them in one way or another.</p><p>It was time to go. Time to leave unfriendly lands for good, and go back to Sweden. Felt so wrong, was so hard to swallow, and Magnus had just looked around when Lukas had announced their departure, and spoke for the first time since then, and just to say, "Shouldn't we wait?"</p><p>Wait?</p><p>They all knew what Magnus wanted to wait for, and Berwald's face had collapsed and he had started crying, as Lukas grabbed Magnus' arm and led him upstairs to pack. Ludwig followed them, and watched as Magnus began gathering up clothing and belongings.</p><p>But he gathered Timo's, setting them very carefully into the bags, and Lukas opened his mouth only to very quickly look away.</p><p>Magnus could sit here on this couch and wait forever, but the thing he wanted wasn't coming. They could have stayed here and waited for years, and Magnus would continue to be disappointed. What was left of Timo lied now in Finland, where he always had been in his heart, and that was that.</p><p>The next day, they had packed up everything they had brought with them so long ago. Nothing was left behind, with the exception of Lukas' wires and cables. No point in having them, anymore. No more need for explosives, when the last match had burnt out.</p><p>Magnus had fallen back into the dark, didn't speak, and when night began to fall, they set out, following the Estonians for the final time to their last dangerous ride. Once more, it was up to Ludwig and Lukas to find the way, with Berwald not up to speed and Magnus lost in the tide. As before, they did their best, and it was the need to leave behind Red lands for good that kept them from turning into wrecks when Magnus uttered, in the middle of the night, "We should go back and wait."</p><p>Lukas cursed endlessly under his breath as he manned the wheel, and Ludwig stared holes through the compass.</p><p>The rest of their lives would just be waiting, it seemed, but at least the Soviet Union was soon a memory, as they crossed into Swedish waters and washed their hands of the war. They left Estonia behind, and went back to Sweden. Sweden, where Ludwig had dreamt of going back to for years and years, and now it just didn't feel right. Setting foot into neutral land at dawn, returning in defeat.</p><p>Wasn't right, because one pair of boots didn't touch that soil. The one pair that had the most right, really, because Timo had been the one guiding them and keeping them all alive.</p><p>They hadn't gone to Gotland that time, going straight onto mainland Sweden, near Stockholm, and from there they pooled together money and bought an old car come nightfall. It was a very tight squeeze with all of the luggage, and Magnus and Ludwig were rather squished up together as bags took up the other half of the backseat. Magnus stared out of the window and watched the trees going by.</p><p>Sweden was as silent as Estonia had been.</p><p>They drove all night, stopping only when Lukas started falling asleep, and when morning was bright the next day, Ludwig could see the smoke rising up from chimneys in the distance. Long forgotten mountains.</p><p>A hill.</p><p>And there above, as it always had been in his dreams, sat that old house, waiting for them as it had these long years.</p><p>They had finally come home, but it wasn't home anymore so much as just another house. Home had slipped away somewhere back there, and getting back a sense of it seemed impossible. It was still a comforting sight, in its own way, and Berwald at least seemed very relieved to see it.</p><p>They tried once more to settle, Lukas and Ludwig dragging the bags in, and then walking Magnus in. How bizarre, to see this place again. It was dusty and dim, rather musty, but Magnus woke up just a little, reached down to grab a bag, and started walking right down the hall.</p><p>Muscle memory, perhaps, breaking through the fog.</p><p>Magnus sat down in what was Timo's old room, on the edge of the bed, and looked around a bit. Lukas, ever at his side, very carefully took the bag from Magnus' hand, stood up straight, and looked so tired, so exhausted, but Ludwig watched from the frame as Lukas all the same went to the dresser and began putting Timo's clothes away.</p><p>Left very quickly, because his vision was blurry and his chest hurt. Even after years and years, it still smelled just a bit like Timo in there, and he couldn't stand it.</p><p>Pretending.</p><p>These should have been their happiest days, and instead were the most somber and miserly.</p><p>Lukas slept in Magnus' bed now, and it was Berwald who stared blankly at the ceiling as Ludwig rested atop his chest.</p><p>It was as if the very pole itself had vanished, and the needle within the compass was spinning endlessly, helplessly, lost and confused and not knowing where to go.</p><p>The North was gone.</p><p>Magnus didn't eat. He didn't move. Just sat there.</p><p>Staring.</p><hr/><p>The thought of dying was something that most men feared above all else. At the surface, it seemed like the most natural fear. Nobody really wanted to die, and survival instincts were always lurking.</p><p>But really, if anyone had ever sat down and actually thought about it, the one thing that was more terrifying than the prospect of dying yourself was the notion of the person you loved more than anything dying. After all, when you were dead, you were dead. That was all. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about. Carefree and liberated from earthly stress.</p><p>God, though, being the one left <em>behind</em>—</p><p>That was terrifying.</p><p>Berwald sat there now, and watched Magnus, perpetually lost in that plane of misery. It was unfathomable, that hurt, no words at all for it. Berwald had been there, when Ludwig had 'died'. Knew what Magnus felt, and knew that there was no escaping it.</p><p>Magnus had never belonged here, had never wanted to hurt people, had never wanted to die. Had never really wanted to fight, not really. Magnus had been terrified of the prospect of death, on whatever side, and Berwald knew that he now stood before the most impossible trial a man could ever face : acceptance.</p><p>Magnus was a master of pretending, and hadn't yet accepted reality.</p><p>Berwald was in no place to judge him, because he too had refused to accept. It had been Magnus that had taken the gun away from Berwald that day, and so Berwald stayed ever at Magnus' side now, just in case. Magnus wasn't like Berwald, not like that, and Berwald didn't truly ever think it would go that far. Not Magnus.</p><p>The way he looked though...</p><p>Better to be safe.</p><p>That dark, misty forest that had trapped Berwald over and over again; Magnus walked there now, and it seemed that no matter how hard they tried to find him, he was ever lost to them. Couldn't find him amongst the trees and fog. Lukas and Ludwig called endlessly to Magnus, but he couldn't hear them, and Berwald just fumbled about the dark as he always did, useless and unable to keep up.</p><p>He had never been the leader, and that was painfully obvious now that their real captain had vanished. Everyone was lost, confused, dazed, aimless, wandering around helplessly. No sense of direction, no sense of purpose, no urgency and no hope. Just night, vast and starless, with no end in sight. The needle in the compass was immobile, and so were they, now that Timo—</p><p>...hurt too much to even think about. Couldn't handle it, couldn't stomach it, and tried so hard to pretend that nothing at all had ever happened, but it was so much harder to pretend when he turned his head and saw Magnus sitting there staring off into nothing. To sit together at the table and notice that painfully empty seat.</p><p>This house was where they had been borne as a group, and here now they stood defeated. They had come home at long last with less men than they had set out with, and all of them were in their own stages of denial.</p><p>Magnus was dormant, Lukas was silent, Ludwig was dazed, and Berwald was stupefied. Magnus kept Timo's clothes always ready in the dresser, Lukas refused to look at Timo's bedroom door when he passed it, Ludwig stared down the driveway sometimes as if he expected someone to come walking up, and Berwald, even now, despite it all, still looked over at that empty chair first thing in the morning and actually expected to see pale hair lit up in the white sun.</p><p>And he did, but it was always Ludwig's.</p><p>The silence was unbearable.</p><p>One Friday morning, Lukas and Ludwig walked together down into the town below to buy supplies and groceries, and Berwald was left alone to think too much. Magnus sat on the floor against the wall, in the very spot he and Timo used to clean their guns together.</p><p>Magnus was pale, unshaven, wan and exhausted. Berwald had never seen a man look as bad as Magnus did then, and he imagined that it was very much what the others had seen when they had looked at Berwald in those stretches of time when Ludwig had been gone.</p><p>Berwald stood up and limped into the living room, and Magnus turned his head, leaning back against the wall as he was, and stared up at Berwald.</p><p>A very uncomfortable stretch of quiet, and then Magnus spoke.</p><p>Could count on one hand the number of times Magnus had spoken since that day.</p><p>He uttered, deeply, "Before we left here, I was— I was scared to leave. But I'd go anywhere he does, so I told him I'd follow him. I gave him a flower, and told him I'd go with him, wherever he went, even though I was scared. Because I was in love with him. He told me to grow up and go because I wanted to make a difference, not because I was in love. I thought he threw it away."</p><p>Berwald looked down, and felt a godawful pang of hurt that rushed up so powerfully it made him stagger a bit. In Magnus' lap, he held that kid's book, that fairytale. Mikko and the Fox. The book Timo had read to unconscious Ludwig the first day they had brought him back, when he had been tied to the bed.</p><p>It was open, and within the pages rested a dried red flower.</p><p>His eyes stung, his vision blurred, his denial threatened to shatter, and Berwald fled as quickly as he could into the bathroom. Made it just in time and shut the door behind him right before he burst into tears. One of his more miserable moments, collapsing to the floor and bawling so hard that he couldn't breathe at all.</p><p>His chest hurt.</p><p>He cried himself utterly senseless in there, until his head was on fire and his eyes were swollen and he couldn't breathe.</p><p>Didn't know how long he was in there, sobbing, but when he pulled it back together and hoisted himself up to his feet with the aid of the sink, when he trudged in defeat back into the living room, Magnus was gone.</p><p>The book sat on the floor.</p><p>Berwald looked around, and spied a flash of red through the window.</p><p>He tottered over and looked out, and saw Magnus sitting there up on the hill where Berwald had liked to stand and look out at the mountains. His back was to the house, and Berwald didn't know why he shivered then, why he felt so uneasy and alarmed. Why he made instantly for the door and as fast as he could outside.</p><p>Magnus was just sitting there on the dead, wet grass, soaked from melted snow. Sitting there in the cold mud.</p><p>Climbing that hill was damn hard, slipping on the slick grass, but urgency was high, dread was higher, and Berwald didn't know why he was so scared suddenly. Just that awful feeling he had.</p><p>He made it up the hill eventually, panting and huffing, freezing cold from both the air and fear, and he could see Magnus staring off as blankly as ever, this time into the vast mountains on the horizon.</p><p>In Magnus' folded legs rested his hands, and in his hands he held a pistol.</p><p>A painful rush of adrenaline, a surge of panic, fear, and Berwald bristled out and felt time slow a bit, as he saw Magnus sitting there like that, staring off into nothing. Eerily familiar. Immediately, he set slow course for Magnus, and called, as he went, "Hey."</p><p>Damn—couldn't run, couldn't move quickly, and the cane sank down into the wet earth enough to slow him down ever more.</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>Magnus didn't acknowledge him, but when Berwald had hobbled over close enough to see Magnus in detail, he heard the click of the hammer. Berwald went as fast as he could, but when he was beside Magnus, that gun suddenly raised up, and Magnus held it against his temple as Berwald once had. Berwald fell instantly still, because he wasn't quick enough, and he was afraid moving then might have set Magnus off. Didn't wanna risk it, so instead Berwald lowered himself to one knee with the aid of the cane, and then plopped down onto the ground there beside Magnus.</p><p>Still, Magnus didn't look at him, but knew he was there, because after a moment, Magnus asked, "What was going through your head that day?"</p><p>That day—when Berwald had been sitting like this.</p><p>Magnus' voice was lower and rougher than Berwald had ever heard it. Despondent. Dull.</p><p>Honestly, Berwald answered, "Not a goddamn thing."</p><p>The truth. Had been barely aware of anything around him.</p><p>He couldn't tell yet what Magnus was really doing. If he was serious, if he was just giving in to a moment of desperation, or maybe if he wanted to imitate Berwald's posture just to see how it felt, how it sat with him, so that he could determine if squeezing the trigger was worth it.</p><p>A long silence, and then Magnus whispered, his rough voice breaking just a bit, "It's like... It's kinda like drowning, isn't it? Is that what you felt? Like you were under water? I can't— I feel sometimes like I can't breathe."</p><p>Drowning?</p><p>No, that wasn't what he had felt, because he hadn't been aware enough for that. Magnus had shut down, but it was different than Berwald's episodes. Magnus was so much more capable of handling devastation than Berwald was, although it may not have seemed that way at a glance, as pitiful as he had looked all these years. Had Berwald been in Magnus' position, he wouldn't have lasted as long. Berwald hadn't drowned, because everything had stopped firing altogether and there had been only that pitch-black plane of nothingness.</p><p>The world had just vanished, floated up in ashes.</p><p>Berwald opened his mouth, thought of nothing good to say, and scooted a little closer.</p><p>Oh, damn, he wasn't the right <em>person </em>for this, he wasn't, shoulda been Ludwig or Lukas sitting here right now. Either one of them would have already diffused Magnus, would have already claimed the gun, and Berwald just sat there fumbling.</p><p>Wouldn't lose Magnus too, couldn't. Couldn't lose anyone else. Wouldn't've made it through that, any of them. They were already ruined, hanging on by a frayed thread.</p><p>Magnus followed a small cloud with his eyes, and then said, "I'm trying to find a point to... I keep thinking, you know, everyone is different. Every person is an individual, right? So even if I looked around for the rest of my life, I'd never find anyone else like him. No one out there would ever be just like him. I won't ever have that again. I don't want—"</p><p>A swallow, a deep breath, a crinkle of Magnus' brow.</p><p>Closer and closer.</p><p>"He said he'd come home with me. Why'd he lie? He didn't have to lie. What's the point? Isn't that what you thought? He's gone, and there's no one else out there like him, so what's the point?"</p><p>It was the adrenaline brought on by that gun that kept Berwald from breaking down into tears then, as Magnus' face ever threatened to collapse.</p><p>Berwald found his voice again, and tried, so cautiously, "Just because no one will ever be the same doesn't mean you haveta just stop. You have an entire life still. You're so young. You don't know what else is out there."</p><p>Magnus scoffed, and Berwald knew that Magnus knew that Berwald was full of it.</p><p>Berwald had been here already, and Magnus had stopped him, for whatever reason, and so Berwald was trying to stop Magnus now and was saying whatever came to mind.</p><p>Ludwig had been gone, and Berwald had thought those same things; if Ludwig was gone, there was no point in going on, because no one else out there would ever be perfectly the same. No one would have ever loved Berwald again, not the way Ludwig had, and Magnus stood there now on that realization, that no one else on the Earth would ever be exactly like Timo, would never give him those same sentiments.</p><p>But...</p><p>Gathering up a bit of bravery, and a little bit of lies, Berwald offered, "I loved him once. You know I did. I felt that way, too. I thought there was no one else. But then I met Ludwig. So... You don't know what can happen."</p><p>A semi-truth, perhaps. It had been different, because Timo had never loved Berwald. Timo had loved Magnus, always had, and that was why Berwald had moved on from him. Losing someone that had loved you in return was entirely different, and incomparable.</p><p>Magnus didn't want anyone else—he wanted Timo, and that couldn't be.</p><p>The future seemed empty and pointless.</p><p>Still, Magnus watched clouds pass, and had yet to make any true motions.</p><p>Another scoff.</p><p>"You think he'd be pissed off if I did it?"</p><p>Eyes ever on Magnus, as he crept so carefully closer, Berwald uttered, "Yeah. You <em>know </em>he would be. He'd be mad as hell at you. He'd call you a coward and punch you before they even finished slapping the halo over your head. Then he'd take it right off and strangle you with it and kill you all over again. You know how mad he gets."</p><p>A crumple of Magnus' face, an awful squint of his eyes.</p><p>Magnus didn't speak anymore, breathing so heavily and chest heaving, and Berwald scooted just a little closer, and asked, to bide time, "Why did you take the gun from me?"</p><p>No response at first, as Magnus stared ever off into the mountains.</p><p>Berwald crept a centimeter more, and now their knees barely brushed. Magnus didn't look over at him still, gun gleaming in the sunlight and eyes still squinted. The puffing of Magnus' breath in the cold air.</p><p>Was so close, but was still too afraid to reach out.</p><p>Again, Berwald asked, "Why did ya take the gun, huh? How you're feelin' now—that's how I felt. So why'd ya stop <em>me</em>?"</p><p>Magnus took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and said, far too thickly, "'Cause I— It hurts too much to lose people."</p><p>A little closer. His knee pressed fully into Magnus'.</p><p>"Yeah? So. How you think Ludwig and Lukas will feel? It's easy for you. It's not easy for us when you leave us behind. You really wanna make them suffer so you don't have to?"</p><p>He raised his hand, so carefully, and rested it on the small of Magnus' back.</p><p>A long silence, as Magnus tried to control his breathing.</p><p>And then Magnus scoffed, laughed, although it sounded more like a sob, and the gun fell ever so slightly from his temple, to rest atop his cheek instead. Berwald raised his hand, so slowly, up Magnus' back. A very slow lowering of Magnus' shoulders. Magnus' eyes ran over the clouds above the mountains, and after a moment he spoke.</p><p>His voice a bit higher. Thinner.</p><p>"I took the gun from you. And we waited and— All that time we waited, and then Ludwig came back. If I..." The gun fell a bit lower, and Berwald's hand raised higher, up to Magnus' shoulder. "If I wait, too, then maybe..." Farther and farther, and the muzzle of the gun rested then on the line of Magnus' jaw, and Berwald's hand gripped Magnus' wrist. So close.</p><p>Magnus twisted his head then, met Berwald's gaze, and tried to smile, as his eyes squinted once more.</p><p>"If I wait long enough, maybe Timo will just come back like Ludwig did."</p><p>An awful burn of Berwald's eyes, a clench of his throat, and Berwald pulled Magnus' hand down at last, and gripped the gun in his own hand. Knew he was crying, and couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand that awful expression on Magnus' face, that crinkled brow and nose, that smile that was more of heartbreak than hope, and Berwald at last disengaged the gun from Magnus' hand and claimed it.</p><p>Magnus could sit there and stare at the door and wait all he wanted, but it wouldn't change anything. Could keep all of Timo's clothes right there ready to go, but it wasn't going to turn the tide.</p><p>Timo wasn't coming home.</p><p>Couldn't see for the tears, and could barely breathe. Thought he had just cried himself dry, but apparently not.</p><p>When the gun was safely in Berwald's hands, he opened up the chamber and took the bullets out, tucking them in his pocket and then tossing the pistol aside. They sat there for a moment in silence, and Berwald pushed his glasses up just enough for him to wipe his eyes. When he glanced back over, Magnus was still looking at him.</p><p>Magnus stared at him then, really <em>seeing </em>him for the first time in weeks, and swallowed a bit before he was finally able to speak once more.</p><p>But oh, what he said to Berwald was the most miserable fuckin' thing that had ever come out of Magnus' mouth, and Berwald wished he had never heard it at all. Magnus, who had always been the most cheerful amongst them, whether it had been false or not. The best of them.</p><p>That breaking, mournful tone.</p><p>"I wish I'd'a died too, so I wouldn't have to feel this way."</p><p>Magnus wished that he would have been killed, too. Not because he would have traded his life for Timo's, although he certainly would have. Not because he wanted to be dead so that he and Timo could be together, although certainly at some level he wanted that, too.</p><p>No.</p><p>Magnus wished that he had died, so that he wouldn't have to sit here now alone and feel this unending pain.</p><p>Agony.</p><p>And Berwald understood Magnus perfectly on that level, because, oh god, when Ludwig had left, there had been no words for it. Getting back word that Ludwig was gone, swept away into the sea, that he wasn't coming <em>back</em>—</p><p>No words for the way you could stand there for hours, watching the door and yet knowing that no matter how long you stood there, the person you wanted to see wasn't going to come through. No words for that godawful sense of dread that came up like a tidal wave every time that you opened your mouth to speak, and realized that the one you wanted to talk to wasn't there anymore. No words for the despondency of waking up in the morning and reaching out, only to have your hand hit bedding instead of warmth, no words for the ache that came when you realized that that face would never be next to yours again.</p><p>No words for the loneliness. The hurt. The way the world stopped and getting it to start again was impossible.</p><p>The part of you that always tried to deny and pretend, and was constantly foiled by the reality all around, the faces of others, how no one spoke or looked at each other, and you knew that your pretending was only that.</p><p>Magnus suddenly slumped, in every way possible. His shoulders, his face, his eyes, everything seemed to collapse, and then he burst into tears and twisted at the side and pressed his forehead into Berwald's chest. The first time he'd cried since that day. Berwald grabbed him up, and was silent.</p><p>What could he say? Nothing ever got rid of that feeling.</p><p>But Ludwig had come <em>back</em>. Timo wasn't going to.</p><p>Magnus hands lifted up and clenched in his collar, and Berwald could really only bury his face into Magnus' hair and cry some more.</p><p>Magnus could barely breathe, crying as hard as he was, but somehow he managed to choke out, brokenly, against sobs and high-pitched whines, "I wasn't gonna tell ya— It's my fault. I wasn't gonna tell any of ya, 'cause you'd hate me, and I couldn't— It's my fault. I didn't wanna say it. You guys already hate me, for comin' back instead of him. I know it shoulda been him. He shoulda been the one to come back. Not me. You guys didn't want me. I know you all would trade me for him, I know, 'cause I would, too."</p><p>Berwald opened his mouth, and choked.</p><p>It should have been someone else doing this. Why him? Why was it him? He was useless in this matter, was the wrong person for Magnus to be breaking down against.</p><p>He didn't know what to <em>say</em>.</p><p>"It was my fault," Magnus moaned, voice muffled by Berwald's shirt. "It was my shot— I missed. I fuckin' missed. Like always, I missed when I shouldn't've, and he got hit because of it. It was my fault. I shoulda never gone with him. If Ludwig had gone with him like always, he'd be fine, because Ludwig wouldn't'a missed. I missed. He'd be fine if I hadn't gone. I was always so useless, why did he even wanna bring <em>me</em>, when he knows I ain't good for nothin'—"</p><p>Magnus broke off then, and could speak no more.</p><p>Berwald was ever silent. Didn't know what to say. Felt so stupid, and would have felt worse somehow if he had tried to say 'it's not your fault', because Magnus would never believe that, and in some awful way it really was Magnus' fault if he had missed a vital shot. But it wasn't as if he had ever meant to, and for that perhaps Berwald should have said something.</p><p>Why bother?</p><p>When Ludwig had 'died', not a single word any of the others had said had mattered, not one, and so Berwald didn't say anything then because he wouldn't insult Magnus like that. Would have meant well, and would have made Magnus feel worse.</p><p>So he just held the bastard the entire while he broke down.</p><p>Couldn't have spoken anyway, had he tried, hard as he was crying into Magnus' hair.</p><p>Years upon years hating this man, really for no good reason, and Berwald wished then more than anything that he could have just helped him. Wished that there was something he could have said or done that would have relieved some of that pain, but there wasn't, so all Berwald could really do was try to ride out the storm with Magnus and hope to see it through to the other end.</p><p>Magnus cried himself senseless, until he just couldn't cry anymore, but even after he stopped he just stubbornly pressed his face there in Berwald's shirt, fingers clenched into the fabric.</p><p>One final mumble, muffled and low.</p><p>"I'm sorry I let him die."</p><p>With that, Magnus pulled back, eyes red and bleary, and he stared at the mountains for a moment before exhaling and falling back onto the wet grass. Berwald watched him for a while, struggling through his own sea of misery, before he followed suit and collapsed backwards.</p><p>Nothing to say.</p><p>Berwald had always known, in the back of his mind, why Magnus' aim was so terrible, and why it had never improved even a little during all these years; because Magnus had never wanted to kill anyone. Magnus' aim may not have been skewed by his shaking hand so much as his heart, and he always missed because something deep down in him just wouldn't let him aim to kill. Magnus hadn't ever really been one of them, but this time had paid far too high a price for his inability to cause harm. Magnus had missed, and that was all there really was to it. As it so often did, war took advantage of kind men and punished them.</p><p>They lied there side by side on the damp ground, wet and cold and dirty, and just stared at the clouds floating away. They didn't say another word to each other, and Magnus seemed to fall back into his trance, bleary eyes following the white puffs above.</p><p>Ludwig and Lukas came back, and when Lukas saw them lying there in the wet grass and dirt, he dropped the bags in his hands and ran up the hill, Ludwig right behind him. How scared they must have been, seeing them like that, how many things must have been running through their heads.</p><p>Berwald's view of the sky was suddenly blocked by Ludwig, who stared down at him in concern, as Lukas hovered over Magnus.</p><p>When it was clear that everyone was alright—well, alive anyway—Lukas knelt down next to Magnus, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up until he was sitting. Magnus stared once more into the mountains, as Lukas looked around tiredly, uncertain of what to do.</p><p>In the end, Lukas just plopped down on the ground next to Magnus, as Magnus clung yet to his hand, and Ludwig fell onto his back next to Berwald.</p><p>They stayed there, the four of them, muddy and wet and cold and heartbroken, and watched clouds.</p><p>Ludwig's hand took his, as Lukas had Magnus'. Magnus suddenly reached out his other hand, and grabbed Berwald's. A surreal sensation, but he gripped Magnus' hand as tightly as he did Ludwig's, and they all sat there in that pitiful chain of misery. Four. Four? That number wasn't right.</p><p>Someone was missing.</p><p>Berwald wished that he was somewhere else. This place, this time, this reality—hurt too much. The dream had ended.</p><p>Not fair. It had been the last time.</p><p>Timo had had dreams, too.</p><hr/><p>Nostalgia.</p><p>It let Ludwig down this time. So many years sleeping in foreign lands and dreaming endlessly of this house. Had always known in some way that he had perhaps unfairly elevated this house into ridiculously high expectations, but that was what had gotten him through it all, knowing that he would one day come back to this house he had loved.</p><p>Exaltation failed him. The house didn't live up to that old feeling he had once had.</p><p>They tried to go back and find their feet. Berwald tried to get back into making woodworks as Lukas and Ludwig went into town and tried to find odd jobs here and there, and Magnus was slowly moving around a little. Still didn't speak, but didn't just sit there and stare ahead all day anymore. Often, Ludwig glanced over to see Magnus at Berwald's side. Unusual, but hopeful.</p><p>They bought another car, and Ludwig tried to distract himself by tinkering with it.</p><p>April passed quietly and mournfully. They were still in lingering shock, still in their own stages of denial, and while they did their best as they had to, sometimes something would set them off.</p><p>Berwald just dissolved into tears one day while sitting on the porch and staring at a pile of firewood. Ludwig caught Lukas with his face buried in his hands sitting on the staircase. Magnus cried, for the first time Ludwig had seen, when they had gone to the little shed by the edge of the woods and saw the old skis there inside.</p><p>Ludwig was sweeping the house, and when he swept Timo's room, he reached under the dresser and dragged out a piece of broken ceramic; a bit of the lamp he had shattered years ago to escape this room. Why that had made him burst into tears, he couldn't say.</p><p>Stupid little things.</p><p>May came, and Magnus ate without them having to force him to. Ludwig knew in a way that it wasn't because Magnus was accepting things and putting them behind him, so much as that Magnus had managed to find some kind of modified reality where Timo had either never existed or was simply on a very extended trip far from home.</p><p>Magnus was perfecting his pretending, and if that was what he needed to do then so be it. If that was the only way forward for him, then Ludwig had no problem with that, and honestly they were all really doing the same.</p><p>They didn't talk about Timo at all. Never once mentioned his name, never talked about Finland, never talked about the past. It was sad and maybe disrespectful to pretend that Timo simply never was, but it was the only way they were coping with it. To just erase Timo in a sense, because remembering that he had once been with them and no longer was simply wasn't comprehensible yet. Maybe in a few years, when the hurt wasn't as fresh, it wouldn't be so. Maybe someone could say Timo's name aloud and not get that awful silence and those averted looks of misery.</p><p>For now, no one spoke about it, and then suddenly, one day, it happened.</p><p>The war ended.</p><p>It ended in Europe, and the continent rejoiced.</p><p>They had dreamt of it for so long. Planned it all out. Had so many long nights just talking about what they would do when it finally happened. They had wanted to go out with a bang. Celebrate the end of the war with a great party and too much alcohol, with other rebels and maybe even some soldiers, outside in the open and finally free to go about as they would. To celebrate becoming normal men again.</p><p>But they weren't in Finland anymore; they were in Sweden, and the war ended long after they had been defeated.</p><p>It was just a cool, dreary morning, misty and pale, and they sat together at the kitchen table, heads bumping together as Lukas tuned the radio this way and that.</p><p>The 8th of May.</p><p>Magnus just stared out of the window, and didn't pay attention to the radio. Garbled voices came in and out.</p><p>
  <em> "...on this day...of 1945, we are...announce to you...war in Europe...over."</em>
</p><p>No one was smiling.</p><p>Instead of the glory they had always envisioned, there was just silence. Instead of victory, a silent walk with their tails between their legs.</p><p>One chair was empty. Too few at the table.</p><p>Lukas stopped fiddling with the radio, letting the static take over, and turned his eyes to the table.</p><p>The war was over.</p><p>It was somehow incomprehensible, after so many years of fighting and death and terror. The world had been insanity for so long, and it just ended like <em>that</em>, with a voice on the radio. Like signaling the end of an enormous bomb by setting off a tiny firecracker. The thunderous war went out with scarcely a little whimper.</p><p>Ludwig stared at the empty chair.</p><p>Lukas turned the radio off, nearly glared at it for a while, and then Magnus suddenly turned his head to them all, and looked them over. When he spoke up, in one of those extremely rare moments, his voice was husky and deep. Rough.</p><p>Just a simple question.</p><p>"What did we accomplish?"</p><p>Everyone was silent, because the answer was very obvious :</p><p>Not a damn thing.</p><p>All along, that was their accomplishment—nothing.</p><p>Magnus stood up, and walked out. Berwald was the one staring out of the window then, swallowing and blinking rapidly, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as he struggled for composure. That awful silence was suffocating, and Lukas suddenly grabbed the radio in his hands and threw it across the room and into the wall as hard as he could.</p><p>It broke, and Ludwig stared down at it for a while, and really just saw <em>them </em>there.</p><p>Damaged.</p><p>Glory. A blaze of glory. That was what men said. Some sought it out, like Gilbert had, that 'blaze of glory'. Going out in grand fashion, becoming a war hero, being memorable, making a difference, feeling worthwhile and as if they had accomplished something. They had all grown up in the shadow of the first great war. Statues everywhere, espousing the glory and bravery and success of men who had died. Easy to look at those statues, at those memorials, to be schooled on events, and to think that truly the greatest thing a man could accomplish was to die dramatically for his country.</p><p>A fuckin' lie—the only people that could ever truly get that sense of glory were the dead men and those who had never come into contact with the war.</p><p>Timo had his blaze of glory, alright, because he was dead. That meant nothing at all to those left behind. All war had given them was strife, trauma, nightmares, discord, misery, hate. It had nearly torn them apart, and Ludwig realized in that second that glory was just another lie they had all been sold.</p><p>There was nothing glorious in this feeling. Nothing glorious about Timo being carried in Lukas' fuckin' backpack in a pouch, nothing glorious in Berwald limping behind everyone else with his eyes downcast, nothing glorious in Magnus clenching the shirt of a man who would never come home, nothing glorious in those godawful nightmares they all had.</p><p>Nothing glorious about an empty household.</p><p>Every man Ludwig had ever killed—they had left behind people, too, hadn't they. All those Red soldiers; they had just been following orders, all of them, had just been doing their job, and in so many places now in the Soviet Union there was a house full of people who felt just like they did in that moment. Ludwig couldn't stand this feeling, how unfair it was, and hated somehow even more thinking that he had caused this very feeling to so many other people, and for what?</p><p>For what? It was pointless. The world seemed pointless.</p><p>This wasn't glorious.</p><p>The war was over, and none of them had anything to show for it except anguish and destruction. They would have felt as ruined then had the Axis won as they were that the Allies had. Made no difference who the victor was, because they had lost a long time ago and nothing would have ever been able to turn back time and make any of it worthwhile.</p><p>They had accomplished nothing.</p><p>Lukas stood up, stalked out, and on his way he stopped to kick the broken radio as hard as he could. Berwald and Ludwig were left there alone at the table, Berwald silently crying as he stared out of the window, and Ludwig folded his arms on the table and buried his head.</p><p>The war was over, and it meant nothing.</p><p>How stupid—had never meant anything at all. They had only ever lied to themselves. Everything they had done for the past five years had been for absolutely nothing. A waste of time and energy. The world didn't notice them, had never known they existed at all.</p><p>Still didn't.</p><p>They were nobodies who had fooled themselves into thinking they were heroes.</p><p>What a great story to tell.</p><p>Thumping and banging from above, and Ludwig could only assume that Lukas was taking out his rage on his bedroom, ripping things apart and causing destruction. Some part of Ludwig would have liked to join him, but apathy had set in, and he just sat there at the table and zoned out.</p><p>So much they had lost, and nothing they had gained.</p><p>Berwald staggered up a while later, and vanished.</p><p>The next few days were as dreary as those last days in Estonia. They tried to cope in their own ways, standing there in the face of their own pointlessness. Looking in the mirror and seeing nothing there at all to be proud of.</p><p>Lukas and Magnus frequently sat on the hill together and looked out into the mountains, and Berwald spent all of his time walking, because maybe the pain in his leg was better than the pain in his chest. Ludwig wandered about as a phantom, walking through town and observing buildings that someone else would never again lay eyes upon.</p><p>In June, something awful happened.</p><p>Ludwig and Berwald had just been sitting together on the couch, pressed together and whispering to each other, as they tried to come up from the depths, and Lukas had walked up to them and observed them with a tilted head.</p><p>A snort.</p><p>Lukas looked Berwald and Ludwig over in turn, slowly and pryingly, and then he smiled, a bit wanly. A low whisper.</p><p>"Well. You guys have a great family home here, huh? It really suits you both. Guess I oughta set out and find my own home."</p><p>An awful rush of hurt, fear, anxiety.</p><p>What? No, no, no, where the hell had that come from? They were supposed to stay together, all of them, that wasn't right. What the hell was Lukas thinking?</p><p>Didn't want Lukas to <em>leave</em>.</p><p>Lukas stared at Ludwig very pointedly, expectantly perhaps, but Ludwig choked when he meant to say, 'Please don't go.'</p><p>Berwald inhaled, opened his mouth, and just like Ludwig he floundered and said nothing. The distress on his face was easy to see.</p><p>Lukas lifted a brow, waited a little more, and when there was only more silence he eventually walked away.</p><p>Ludwig hung his head, and felt his world crumbling ever more. Had already lost one. Didn't want to lose anyone else. They should have stayed together. Wasn't right, for any of them to leave. Ludwig wanted to beg Lukas to stay, would fall to his knees and literally beg if he had to, wanted him to stay put, because this house was already too empty.</p><p>The next morning, Ludwig realized with horror that Lukas was packing, and so was Magnus.</p><p>Oh, no—</p><p>That day felt so dreary, so misty and frightening. Watching Lukas packing and feeling his veins pulsing with dread. Watching Lukas murmuring to Magnus, as he helped Magnus pack.</p><p>Why was he letting them pack? Why wasn't he saying anything? This wasn't <em>right</em>. His best friend and his brother. Why were they leaving?</p><p>Magnus still packed up Timo's clothes along with his own.</p><p>Berwald was as silent as Ludwig, looking around as if utterly bewildered. Confused. Ludwig caught his eye at times, and they stared at each other as if they were watching the world end, and yet neither of them opened up their mouths.</p><p>Lukas packed the bags up into the trunk of one of the cars, and Ludwig stood in front of the door and looked around in a daze. Was this really happening?</p><p>When he finally opened his mouth, at long last, all he croaked to Magnus was, "Where are you going?"</p><p>Magnus was silent, and seemed as dazed and confused as Ludwig was. Lukas came up, reached out, and clapped a heavy hand on Magnus' shoulder.</p><p>"He's goin' wherever I go. We'll be fine together."</p><p>Magnus tried to smile. Didn't work.</p><p>In desperation, Ludwig asked, "Where are <em>you</em> going?"</p><p>Lukas looked rather curious, oddly expectant, and replied, breezily, "I don't know."</p><p>What did Lukas want? What was he doing? What did he want Ludwig to say? Maybe he really did want Ludwig to beg, and by god he was ready and willing to do that.</p><p>But he kept choking, and suddenly Lukas was hugging him, ruffling his hair and then kissing his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, hugging him again, and then said 'goodbye'.</p><p>Goodbye.</p><p>The most terrifying word there was. Parting ways. Splitting up. Saying goodbye. He hated it. Brothers, spreading out into the winds. He shouldn't have let it happen.</p><p>Lukas went to Berwald, clapped his left hand and then hugged him, as Magnus looked around dumbly.</p><p>Lukas went out to the car then, with the vow, "When I find somewhere, I'll call or write. I promise."</p><p>No. Didn't want that.</p><p>Magnus was left behind then, looking back and forth between Ludwig and Berwald as if he were standing on the edge of some great cliff. Looked so scared, so uncertain, so helpless, and it was the most emotion Magnus had shown since back then.</p><p>Eventually, after a deep breath, Magnus took a step forward, and then another, and then he stood before Berwald and extended his hand. Berwald hesitated, looking down at it as if it would hurt him somehow, and he swallowed before finally taking it.</p><p>It was a strange, sad sight, to see Berwald and Magnus clasping hands, looking so...</p><p>"Well. ...bye."</p><p>Sad.</p><p>"Bye."</p><p>Lost.</p><p>They had spent so long hating each other that maybe the thought of being apart was actually pretty terrifying.</p><p>They held hands for far longer than the handshake lasted. Just staring at each other, and Magnus looked nearly distraught when he finally let go of Berwald's hand and then turned to Ludwig.</p><p>Ludwig sucked in air and clamped his jaw, as tears stung his eyes, because Magnus was his best friend and the thought of him being <em>gone</em> made him nauseous. Was a breath away from vomiting. Magnus took a step toward him, hesitated, and slumped.</p><p>He stood there for a long time, and Ludwig couldn't even imagine what was going on in Magnus' head.</p><p>What he did, though, surprised Ludwig so much.</p><p>An odd silence.</p><p>And then Magnus straightened up, whirled around, and ran back, grabbing Berwald in such a firm embrace that he nearly knocked him backwards onto the floor. Magnus' powerful grip kept Berwald from falling.</p><p>If Ludwig hadn't felt so much like crying, he might have laughed.</p><p>"I hate you, you fuckin' asshole," Magnus uttered, quite thickly, even as he clung to Berwald, and it took a moment for Berwald to gather himself and return the embrace with almost as much fervor.</p><p>"I hate you more, you miserable son of a bitch," was Berwald's low, unsteady reply.</p><p>The cane clattered to the floor, as Berwald abandoned it to throw his other arm around Magnus instead, and it was one of the sadder things Ludwig had ever seen, Magnus holding Berwald upright and Berwald clinging to Magnus for dear life. Their heads pressed together, and whatever they whispered to each other then was lost on Ludwig. Magnus held Berwald up by the collar with one hand, and reached down with the other to take Berwald's hand in his in a powerful clasp.</p><p>They hated each other, and didn't want to be parted.</p><p>Berwald and Magnus had far more in common than either of them would have ever admitted.</p><p>Magnus carefully leaned over and collected the cane without letting Berwald fall, shoved it in his hand, and they spared one final, intense look between them before Magnus finally turned away.</p><p>Magnus advanced on Ludwig then, and their embrace was as furious as the one with Berwald had been, as they each lifted the other temporarily off of the ground in their fervor. Didn't want to let the bastard go, because when he did he was gone for good and that made him feel so sick he could have just passed out.</p><p>Magnus pulled back, many long minutes later, and pressed their foreheads together as Ludwig clung to his collar. Whispering and nuzzling, and Magnus had to reach up and actually untangle Ludwig's fingers from his shirt before he was able to take a step back.</p><p>Magnus' final words to him :</p><p>"You were the best friend I ever had. I'll—I'll miss you."</p><p>It took Ludwig a long time to speak, and his voice was thick and shaking when he uttered, "We're going to see each other again. This isn't goodbye. We'll meet again."</p><p>Meeting again. They shouldn't have had to meet again, because they shouldn't have been parting ways.</p><p>Magnus kissed his forehead, and then walked to the door. Ludwig watched him go, too stunned in a way to even start crying.</p><p>Berwald looked so <em>confused</em>.</p><p>Magnus lingered in the door. Head bowed and arms loose, he stood there for a minute, as if actually walking through the frame was somehow the last thing he ever wanted to do. He looked over his shoulder at them, for a long while, but in the end he took that step, and walked down to the car.</p><p>The sound of the door closing for the last time. The roar of the car as it cranked up.</p><p>In this very town, years ago, Magnus had said that since they were together during the war, they should be together after. He had uttered those words, and now he was leaving. Timo was gone. Magnus and Lukas remained. They should be together.</p><p>None of this was right, and Ludwig turned to Berwald then, and said, with a quiver, "Well. I guess we have a marital home."</p><p>He wasn't smiling, and neither was Berwald when he scoffed and said, in a breaking voice, "Yeah. I guess so."</p><p>Ludwig didn't really know how Berwald truly felt about it, and so tested the waters a bit by adding, "It's really big here, for just the two of us, don't you think?"</p><p>A glance over, and a nod.</p><p>Berwald and Magnus, together in a house.</p><p>He wondered...</p><p>"You know," Ludwig finally said, as Berwald stood there, looking <em>lost</em>, "They're getting away."</p><p>Berwald glanced up again, and Ludwig could see the flash of hope on his face. The wide eyes and quick pulse, as if Berwald had desperately wanted them to stay as well but had thought that Ludwig perhaps wanted a home just for them, as Ludwig had thought Berwald would.</p><p>But it would appear that they were thinking the same thing.</p><p>Brothers.</p><p>"Well!" Berwald said, taking a step forward, "What're ya waitin' for, huh? You can run a hell of a lot faster than me. What's the matter with you? Makin' a man with a cane run. Hurry up!"</p><p>Ludwig smiled, for the first time since then, and wasted no time in using his legs for all they were worth to bolt out of the front door and down the drive. Oddly enough, the car wasn't very far down the drive at all. As if, somehow, Lukas had anticipated this.</p><p>Lukas, that creep! Maybe this was all a test.</p><p>The car stopped where it was, and Lukas poked his head out of the window, brow high and truly smiling, teeth showing and eyes crinkled. Lukas' <em>real </em>smile was an odd, strange sight.</p><p>But a beautiful one.</p><p>Now that the war was over, now that every moment wasn't one that could be the last, that wall of impassiveness that Lukas had built up seemed to have fallen.</p><p>"I was wondering how long it would take you! I went real slow."</p><p>His voice seemed different, too. Deeper. That rumble of despair that Ludwig had once heard in Estonia—maybe that really had been Lukas' voice. So much prettier now, though, so much warmer and more appealing.</p><p>Time to meet that weirdo all over again, perhaps.</p><p>Ludwig griped, crankily, "Then why the hell did you go through all this trouble?"</p><p>Lukas snorted, and rumbled, "Because it was the polite thing to do. I had to make sure we weren't imposing on the loving couple."</p><p>Bastard.</p><p>Ludwig banged his hand on the trunk, and Lukas obeyed, popping it open. Ludwig immediately took all of the bags out, making it obvious to both Lukas and Magnus that they weren't going anywhere at all. Magnus looked a little more alert than he had in a long time, and when he stepped out of the car and helped Ludwig with the bags, Ludwig met his eyes and saw Magnus actually looking back at him.</p><p>Berwald watched from the porch, and seemed relieved.</p><p>When Magnus passed Berwald, bags in hand, Magnus muttered, "You really thought you were getting rid of me, didn't you, you miserable bastard."</p><p>Ludwig <em>laughed</em>.</p><p>Laughed—didn't remember what that felt like.</p><p>Berwald seemed shocked, mouth open and eyes wide, and then he scoffed, and grumbled, "A man can dream."</p><p>Lukas didn't get out of the car, though, and when Ludwig came back out, Lukas cried up to him, "Hey! Come on down! Let's go for a drive! The weather is so nice."</p><p>Sounded great, and they all darted back down, Ludwig and Magnus leaping in the back as they waited for Berwald. Berwald came down, fast as he could, and before they knew it, they were all in the car together, like times past, and even though there was one missing, it was still the best damn feeling in the world, to go off together. Berwald sat in the front seat, stretching his long legs, and Ludwig rested his head on Magnus' shoulder as they watched the world go by outside the windows.</p><p>The war was over, but maybe that didn't mean life had to be.</p><p>Together.</p><p>"Where are we going?" Ludwig asked, and Lukas shrugged a careless shoulder.</p><p>"Dunno! Let's just drive and see where we wind up. It's a road trip. Let's go on an adventure together. Let's just drive around and see the world a little today. Who knows what trouble we can get ourselves into."</p><p>That sounded phenomenal.</p><p>Pretending to be normal, if only for a day. Pretending that war hadn't ruined them, that they had a little life left in them yet. That they could still be happy, if they tried.</p><p>Driving with absolutely no destination was pretty much the story of Ludwig's life by then.</p><p>At least this time, there were people around him that wanted him there, and that he wanted there in turn.</p><p>Somewhere down the road, hours later, Berwald twisted in his seat, looked at Magnus, and smiled.</p><p>That was a first.</p><p>"Hey," came Berwald's deep, rough voice, "What's that one line? The one with the window. Romeo and Juliet."</p><p>Magnus sat still for a second, a strange look upon his face, and then he smiled back. Ludwig was sure, then, that the entire world had flipped upside down. Berwald and Magnus smiling at each other. Surreal.</p><p>"Mm— 'But soft! What light through yonder window breaks.' That one?"</p><p>Berwald sat pensively still, eyes squinted in thought, and then he barked a laugh and turned back around, watching the road ahead.</p><p>Finally, Berwald said, "Nah. Sounded a lot better in my head. Damn."</p><p>Well—whatever.</p><p>Ludwig found himself quite lost on that one, but he smiled anyway, because Magnus was still smiling, and he threw his arm over Ludwig's shoulder. Magnus looked over at Ludwig shortly after, gave him a shake, and said, "Hey, don't forget. We have to go to Denmark and get you your papers, Ludde."</p><p>Ludwig beamed, unspeakably thrilled to have Magnus back, if only a little. One thing at a time.</p><p>They'd be alright, in the end, as long as they were together. The world had let them down, but they could do what they had always done, and create their own world. Everything that burned and collapsed could be rebuilt, with some determination.</p><p>Their old dream had died.</p><p>Hurt, to let go of it. It hurt to admit that it couldn't be. It hurt to surrender and realize that it couldn't be changed. It hurt to stand there and have to say aloud that they had failed. Hurt to acknowledge that no matter where they went, no matter what they did, there would always be someone missing.</p><p>Always, one too few.</p><p>No matter how many times Ludwig saw all of them there in his dreams, when he awoke there would always be a different number, and they couldn't keep living in that rut.</p><p>Dreams faded away.</p><p>Couldn't change it. Couldn't make that missing link reappear. One missing link broke the chain, but, if you wanted it badly enough, the loose ends could always be put back together, and that was what they had to do now. Time to let the old dream go, and make a new one. Just starting over again. Life went on, whether they all got onboard or not, so they could only follow along.</p><p>Ah, hell—Timo would have hated getting old, anyway. Had said so himself. Was probably happy as could be this way, going out in that coveted blaze of glory and for Finland, which he had loved above all else. Better for Timo to have died young. He would have made a <em>miserable </em>old man.</p><p>They took comfort in that.</p><p>
  <strong>FIN</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for slugging through with me, guys. You're the best. Hope you took some enjoyment from my misery. See ya around.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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